To Console and Concede
by Selah25
Summary: Season 2 of my OC Elle and what happens to those who left on the raft, and the others who find the Hatch.
1. Chapter 1

Locke led the way back to the beach, as Elle, Jack, and Kate, kept their distance. Exhaustion apparent, their bodies slowly lumbered back to the beach. Hurley lagged behind and Elle, knowing she wasn't going crazy, could have sworn he was carrying on a conversation with himself. Jack unconsciously wiped the sweat from his brow as he looked over at Elle, remnants of Artz still visible, caked into her hair. Pointing a trembling and tired finger towards her head Jack was the first to speak since Elle asked the imperative question, "_What the hell did we get ourselves into?"_

"There's a bit of the teacher, right there." Jack motioned to a tress of hair and with a slight nod of his head, asked Elle if he could get it out for her.

"I think we have bigger issues than a piece of flesh in my hair," Elle denied his assistance, her voice just barely above a whisper, shifted her eyes up ahead at Locke.

Kate nudged Jack, her voice, too, just audible enough for Elle to hear,

"This Locke problem," with apprehension in her voice, "are you sure you aren't overreacting?"

Jack abruptly stopped in his tracks causing Hurley to collide into the formation.

"Whoa, Dude, put on the brake lights next time you go and do that."

Walking past them, Hurley was obviously disinterested in the hatch project, his mind elsewhere. As they watched him catch up with Locke, who turned to see what the hold up was, Elle nodded to Locke and motioned with her hand for them to keep on moving.

"We'll be right behind ya!"

Getting back to their discussion, it was apparent that Jack was disgusted with Kate and looked toward Elle for a bit of support. Granted, Elle had been wary of Locke, but this was not her fight. Putting her hands up in protest, Elle knelt down, opened her backpack, and took a swig of water. Jack took Kate aside and from Elle's point of view, it looked like a poor game of tennis, as each of them took shot for shot.

"Overreacting, Kate?" He threw his arms up in frustration, "I'm doing what's best for us, all of us."

"I'm just saying, _Jack_, we shouldn't be turning against one another, not here, not now."

"That's rich, coming from you," he spat, "did you forget what happened to Boone?"

Noticing that this _discussion_ was going to turn ugly, Elle took a stance in the middle of the two. Putting a hand, palm out, towards each of them, she issued a stand-down.

"This isn't going to get us anywhere, guys."

"You two make valid points and I'm sure you can go for hours, but time isn't on our side here."

Putting their differences aside, they both agreed that what they needed to do was aid the others back at the caves. Elle knew that Kate didn't mean to upset Jack and it was probably her passive aggressive way of getting back at him for switching packs. However, there was a time and place for everything, and like she said, this was neither the place nor the time. If the Others were coming, they needed to act fast. If Locke was a problem, Elle thought to herself, that's all in due time.

They caught up with Locke and Hurley and split off as they shamefully made their way back to the caves to tell the others they hadn't found hope. Kate gave Jack a pitiful look and paired up with Locke as the rest of them hung back. Hurley commented that Jack should speed up before Locke took his lady away and Jack shot him a disparaging look.

"Joke, dude."

Elle chuckled a bit and heard Jack tell Hurley he wasn't really in the mood for jokes. Hurley was always there for a bit of cheering up, especially when the tables had turned on them. Elle was appreciative of his humor. Jack questioned Hurley regarding his rants about _bad numbers_ and Hurley begrudgingly told them about his stint in a psych hospital.

"I'm not crazy, dude."

"Hurley," Elle interjected, "nobody said you were."

It was obvious that their reactions weren't what he had seen coming. He became agitated and asked them, _is that it?_

"They're just _numbers_, Hurley."

Shaking his head at Jack's lame verdict, Hurley commented, humor in his voice.

"What's that thing doctors learn to make their patients feel better just by _talking_?

"Bedside manner."

"Yeah," Hurley joked, "your's sucks, dude."

Hearing that for the second time since they crashed on the island, Jack turned to Elle and seeing that she was enjoying every minute of this, could do nothing but laugh with her.

Claire and the others, including Sayid and Shannon saw them approach and were anxious to hear if they had found some sort of safe haven for the night. Unfortunately, for them, Jack told them about the hatch and the broken ladder. Time was of the essence and it would be cumbersome to belay them down the shaft one by one. The crowd was growing restless and comments were hitting Jack from all sides.

"What about the Others!"

"What are we going to do?"

Trying to calm them down, Jack reassured them that the sun would rise shortly and together they would face whoever the Others were. The downside of it all was that they had to wait. Waiting never proved easy for an impatient mob.

"We'll all camp out here in the caves tonight and we'll set up sentries to guard the entrances. _Everything _will be all right. _I promise_."

Off to the side, Elle noticed Locke gathering cable and supplies. She elbowed Jack and alerted him to Locke's activities. Jack, calling Locke out on his suspicious behaviors, caught the attention of the other survivors. Their attention, now locked on the argument between their _leader _and one of their own, added to the tension. Jack, nearing exhaustion, both physically and mentally had enough of John Locke.

"John, what do you think you're doing?"

"I don't know about you, Jack, but I'm going back to the hatch. I'm tired of waiting."

Locke, thwarting Jack's leadership, gathered his cable and stalked off into the jungle. Elle, ashamed for not coming to Jack's rescue earlier, faced the crowd. Her voice, powerful and in control spoke to them.

"I know you're all scared. Not knowing what's going to happen scares the hell outta me too." Elle scanned the crowd and lastly focused her gaze on Jack. "When was the last time he ever failed us?"

Silence had blanketed the crowd in front of her. Their eyes locked on her. Jack, took a step back, and gave her the floor. Unsure of her motive, he gave her the benefit of the doubt.

"We are better off together, to face whatever comes our way. Together we'll be safe."

"Now, if you're with us, get some rest. Tomorrow may be unlike anything we've witnessed."

Amazed that her speech actually got the others moving, she looked over at Jack. She noticed that he seemed grateful for her assistance, but self-doubt clouded his eyes. Walking over to him, she took a seat next to him on the rocks. Together they watched as the others, took their places among the caves. She saw Claire and Charlie setting up Aaron's bassinette. Elle gave a small wave to Claire who was bundling Aaron up for the night. Waving back, Claire furrowed her brow, indicative of worry. Off to the side, she saw Sayid trying to calm Shannon down. Something obviously had her spooked. Kate walked over to them and crouched so that they were eye-level.

"You really believe we're going to be okay?" she asked Jack, disbelief apparent in her voice.

"Yeah, Kate," he sighed, "I actually do."

"You're always taking care of us…if you weren't here, Jack…" Kate stopped herself from going further. Elle knew what she was going to say and she could see Kate's face change. It became harder somehow.

"I'm going to the hatch, Jack. Locke may be stubborn, but we're in this together."

"Live together, die alone, right?"

Jack nodded in agreement and together, he and Elle wished her luck. Elle couldn't help but think Kate had a hard time staying away from the curiosities on this island. _Curiosity killed the cat_ she said aloud. Jack, catching on, knew she was talking about Kate.

"Satisfaction brought it back."

Jack stood fast and walked to the back of the caves. Checking the magazine of one of the nines, he clicked it back into its shell and stuffed it into the back of his jeans. Elle, surprised at what he was doing, grabbed his elbow and spun him around.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to the hatch," he stated, "you're welcome to come."

Elle didn't know what to say to him at this point. She was dumbfounded. Replaying his words from earlier, she questioned his motives. Thinking they were going to wait in the caves until morning together, she couldn't believe he was going to desert them. Telling him that they needed him here, he corrected her.

"They'll be fine, Elle," scanning the crowd, his eyes settled on Sayid.

"He'll manage," he sounded sure of himself, "he'll come through for them."

Handing her the Beretta, he asked her if she could handle it. Grasping the cold metal in her hand, she released the magazine, reloaded it, and with a swift and smooth motion pulled back the top of the gun.

"What do you think?" she cocked her head to the side and winked.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking through the jungle, Jack and Elle took swift and stealthy strides, making good time toward their destination, the hatch. Along the way, they made idle chitchat but the conversation turned serious when Jack insisted,

"Someday, you're going to tell me where a woman like you learned to use a gun."

Thinking back to the day she first held a gun in her hands, her demeanor turned sour at the thought of Sully. She was young and naïve and needed someone to save her from her mess of a life. Noticing the look on her face, Jack regretted asking. Telling her he only meant to make conversation, he apologized.

"Nah, it's not like you had any idea," she swallowed, "but it's something I rather not think about."

Chasing back the ghost from her past, she told him about her earlier life, which had nothing to do with using guns. She was nineteen and working in a shady area of Jersey where crime was the norm and working for a bookie kept her pockets full and her neck cranked from the constant looking over her shoulder.

"If you owed him money, I was the one who got it."

"I obtained the cash using any means necessary," she laughed, "which usually meant I used my feminine wiles."

Jack, uncomfortable at her disclosure, asked her,

"Why are you telling me this?"

Letting down her guard, she let out a distressed sigh,

"Because I miss him."

Realizing she meant Sawyer, Jack once again felt secondary. It was the way it always was for him. He came second to his father's first, _alcohol_, and he came second to his wife, because she left him for another man. However, he didn't want to be the replacement. He didn't feel comfortable in Sawyer's skin, how could he? He's untamed, he thought to himself. Thinking back on one of their first encounters, Sawyer's words crept along his skin. _You're still in civilization, Doc. I'm in the wild._

"I'm not _him_, Elle." Jack looked at her; his words hit her like a slap in the face.

"That's for damn sure, _Jack."_

"I could talk to him about _everything_ and he didn't judge me."

"You should see your face, Jack. Every word I say, there's disapproval and judgment in your eyes."

Elle began to dissect the moment, accusing Jack. She accused him of thinking she was a whore collecting money for some greedy bookie. I never, ever whored around for money, Jack; she threw the words back in his face. If you knew anything about me, you would know that's not who I was. That's not who I am. She raged on about how bad things were for her when she was a kid and how they only got worse as she got older. I would have been raped and killed if I didn't take matters into my own hand. No man would take _that _from me.

"Elle, Elle, calm down." Jack urged her.

"No, Jack, I have to get this out." she explained she was tired of the misconceptions and accusations from people's eyes, especially his.

"Why do I matter so much," he asked her. "Why does any of that matter, now?"

"Because the way I see it," she began, "we all matter to the ones we depend on."

Jack, taken aback by her confession, nodded sympathetically, for her to continue.

"I was under the bookie's protection, however I was also known to those who owed him, as _The Collector_. One day I was on my way home, a home my earnings provided me, when one of his disgruntled customers came up from behind me and forced me into my apartment. The smell on his breath, oh God, makes my stomach turn every time I smell whiskey."

Elle took a breath. The look on Jack's face was one of uneasiness and angst. He wanted her to stop talking about it; he knew what was coming next. Or so he thought. Telling her she didn't need to go into further details, to protect her from shame, he wound up offending Elle.

"I wasn't raped, Jack."

Her voice, was small and meek, unusual for Elle, he thought to himself. Taking a few deep breaths, Elle continued.

"What happened that night was worse…I took that man's life."

Jack stopped abruptly, her disclosure not what he anticipated. He felt sorry for Elle; she was so young to go through something like that. A small part of him feared what Elle could do to someone. He had seen her handle her own, when it came to Ethan that night in the jungle. Honestly, he didn't know what to say to her. Her face was haggard and anguish shadowed her eyes. Elle sat down on a downed tree stump and held her head in her hands. Jack took a seat next to her and sat there with her, the silence was overwhelming.

"Say something," she whispered, "anything."

Jack couldn't find the words, there wasn't anything he could think of that would help _console_ her, so he did the one thing he knew wouldn't fail. Jack reached over and took a hold of Elle's hand. Even though his touch was foreign to her, Elle missed the nights where Sawyer would just hold her. She allowed Jack to take her hand in his, wary that she shouldn't have…but she needed it. Jack held her hand, gently caressing her moistened skin and he never said a word. Together they sat there, forgetting why they were trekking back to the hatch. Elle opened up to Jack that night, _giving in_ to the malice of her past, allowing Jack to comfort her.

Sparing a few brief moments, Elle recomposed herself and together, Jack and Elle made their way closer to the hatch. Scanning the perimeter, they noticed that neither Locke nor Kate were anywhere to be found. A lone cable hung down the hatch's dark and unwelcoming shaft. Concern for Kate loomed in the air as Jack took one look at Elle and threw his legs over the side of the hatch and twisted his body as he shimmied down the cable. Once he hit bottom, he called up to Elle and she began her way down. The air in the shaft was stale, her lungs closing as the more she neared the bottom, and the more tightly the hatch's passageway seemed to close in around her. With a heavy foot, Elle dropped to a squatting position and scanned the tiny opening. They were standing in a shallow puddle, perhaps the hatch door had a leak, but as she slowly stood up, Elle had a small flashback of a basement her friend had where they would smoke cigarettes they had stolen from their moms' purses and listen to music from the 80's.

As if she cued the next moment, a song blasted down the corridor, causing both Jack and Elle to jump out of their skin. Elle couldn't place the song and by the look on Jack's face, he may have had an inkling as to who was playing. Before she could ask him, Jack began to head toward the sound of the music.

_~You've gotta make your own kind of music~  
>~Sing your own special song~<br>~Make your own kind of music~  
>~Even if nobody else sings along~<em>

"Hey Jack, you a fan of this?" she teased as she picked up her pace and took her spot at his side. Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, she saw him smile a bit.

"I think it's Mama Cass." he said, referencing one of the members of the Mamas and the Papas.

"_Way_ before my time, grandpa." Elle rolled her eyes, exaggerating the word _way_, waving her hand in front of her face, signaling a decade of difference.

Momentary lapse in seriousness aside, they both took their guns and held them out in front of them. Jack noticed the Elle had a steady hand and was sweeping the area, the nozzle of the gun, leading her like radar. Jack, imagining Elle as a little girl, hunting for treasures in her backyard, thought to himself, I wonder if she used to walk around her backyard with a stick shaped like a Y, looking for water. They entered a room and Jack stood over an ancient computer, a green dot flashing on the screen. Scanning down to a button that said _execute_, curiosity got the best of Jack and he was tempted to press it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Jack." Locke's voice boomed directly across the room; the music had played out. He stood in front of them, but Kate was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Kate, John?" Jack asked, his words coated with suspicion. His voice held a moment, but Elle noticed a slight tremble. A gun appeared at the back of John's head and a wiry man stood behind John, using him as a shield.

"Lower your gun, Brotha," the man said, his accent reminiscent of a Scottish actor Elle loved. Elle, postured her gun towards the man,

"Tsk, tsk, you first, _brotha_." Mocking him, she was quick to realize, wasn't a bright idea as he shoved his gun deeper into John's back.

Surprised to see a slender figure move silently behind the mystery Scotsman, the butt of a shotgun smashed into the back of his head, causing him to discharge his weapon. The bullet ricocheted through Elle's arm and made a home in the computer. Grasping her wound with her right hand, never allowing her gun to fall from her grasp, Elle let out a painful moan.

"_Son-of-a_-b…" she bit her lip, blood pouring down her arm. She faltered and crashed to her knees.

Jack straddled the crazy-haired man who was screaming he had to fix the computer or they were all going to die. Elle began to laugh uncontrollably and stared through him.

"We're all going to die because that piece of trash is smokin'?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but I think I may be the first to bleed out here!"

Switching places with Kate, Jack moved briskly towards the fallen Elle. Ripping her sleeve to get a better look at her injury, he made note that the bullet was a _through and through_, just missing the brachial artery. Elle tried her hardest to avoid the sight of her very own blood, but she felt a cold sweat take over her body, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

"Don't you dare pass out!" Jack slapped his hand against her cheek lightly, trying to get Elle to come back around. Shouting to John that he needed something to tie off her wound, Jack laid Elle out flat, raising her legs slightly so her blood would circulate. As Kate guarded the man, Desmond, Jack attended to Elle.

The men took their spots over their similar tasks; Desmond took his place by the damaged computer and Jack took his spot over the wounded Elle. Kate volunteered Sayid to fix the computer and Desmond told her how to get out without having to climb back up the shaft. Kate frozen in place after seeing Elle's body sprawled out on the floor, was snapped back to reality by Jack's voice.

"Kate," he yelled, "Kate, go!" Elle had yet to come around, even though Jack was doing all he could. Desmond, a bizarre attraction to his computer, stammered out an apology.

"Your lady friend, going to be okay, _yeah_?" Anger filled Jack and he went towards the man. John stood in between them and Jack shot him an accusatory glance. Not able to get the computer to work, Desmond accidentally cut the power out.

"It's over, mates." Desmond began frantically packing a bag and headed toward the door.

Unsure what was going on, Locke began screaming toward the man, begging him to stay, to help out, to do _something! _Desmond wished them all luck and left. Locke stood there, his mouth hanging open, looking toward Jack for some reassurance. Jack had nothing left to give the man. Scooping up Elle into his arms, he told John that he was on his own. He needed to get Elle back to the caves, she needed antibiotics, and he needed to stitch her up.

"This isn't what was supposed to happen!" Locke shouted as tears began to brim his eyes in frustration as Jack walked out the door, Elle unconscious in his arms.

Making his way through the jungle, Jack saw Desmond darting back and forth through the brush. Desmond tripped and looked up at Jack, telling him something about a code.

"What are you talking about?" Jack was infuriated. All he wanted was to pull his gun on Desmond, but he couldn't, not with Elle in his arms.

"If you do get the computer to work again, brotha, you have to enter 4-8-15-16-23-42 and then push Execute."

Not believing he was still talking about the computer, Jack told him to shut up. Desmond looked at Jack and began to spill out information about how they first met. Reminiscing about their jog in the stadium, he recalled something about a woman Jack thought he had failed; Desmond asked Jack what happened to her. Desmond asked Jack if the girl was okay. Repeating the words, _it doesn't matter_ to Desmond's questions, Jack finally cracked.

"I married her!"

With a simple nod and a nonchalant _see ya in another life_, Desmond left as quickly as he had come into their lives. Jack broke down crying. Not understanding how any of this was possible, he shifted Elle's weight in his arms, and turned around. He heard a slight whimper and looked down at Elle. Her eyes fluttered open and she attempted to speak.

"You're going to be okay," Jack started, "you fainted."

"I'll take care of you," he promised her, "but there's something I have to do first." Jack began to walk back to the hatch. Elle spoke, her mouth dry.

"You…were…," Elle coughed a bit, "married?"

Nodding yes, Jack smirked.

"Guess that answers the question of whether or not the unconscious can hear us."

"Anyway…I…can assist the medical profession," she stammered before she passed out again due to a loss of blood.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 5

After debating whether Jack should leave Elle in the hatch, or take her back to the caves, he decided on the latter. His medical supplies were back there and if matters became worse, they could always trek back; there was a way in, after all. Making his way towards the caves, he stopped every once in awhile to check her vitals. Her breathing was shallow, but her pulse was strong. However, if he didn't tend to her wound soon, the possibility of infection was paramount. Elle's body was dehydrating, a fever slowly making its presence known, the beads of sweat, trickling down her forehead.

Despite her condition, Jack welcomed the silence. His mind was racing after his encounter with Desmond and his conflict with Locke. He was grateful that Kate took matters into her own hands, but he never meant for anyone to get hurt. Adding to the stress, there was now a "button" that had to be pressed every 108 minutes or the world would come crashing around them. He never liked the story _Chicken Little_ and he wasn't a believer that the sky was falling, stranded on an island or not. The games people will play in order to maintain a skeleton of life they once possessed amazed him. Jack had little faith in the abstract, let alone Locke and his inanities.

As Jack entered the caves, his arms tired, but his adrenaline still running high, he called to Sun to set up a bed for Elle. Ordering her to get some water, towels, a bottle of alcohol, and a needle and thread, he laid Elle down on the gurney they used for the deceased Boone. Erasing that memory like a misspelled word on a blackboard, Jack began to tend to Elle. Sun assisted him. She began to sterilize the wound and when Jack approved, she wiped Elle's forehead with a damp, cool rag. Using one hand to hold down the compress, she handed him the already threaded needle with her right. Telling him that they used the last of the thread on Boone, she had to find something pliable. Unfortunately, for Elle, coarse fibers they used to make the fishing net were readily available. She works well under pressure, he thought to himself.

Charlie made his way over to the triage station and when he saw the damage to Elle's arm, he was louder than he anticipated.

"Bollocks!"

Entering the cave from taking a walk to calm down Aaron, Claire was unsure of why the normally scattered survivors were huddled together, whispering, and looking toward a determined Jack. She made her way over to Charlie. He stopped her from getting too close, attempting to save her from seeing her friend's injury. Stubborn as she was, she pushed past Charlie and knelt by her friend. Aaron, sleeping soundly in her arms, cooed as he sucked on his thumb.

"My God, Jack," she whispered, "what in bloody hell happened?" Claire reached out to touch Elle's hand, but Jack gently pushed her hand aside. Looking up toward Charlie and Claire, he instructed them that Elle needed air. Jack wasn't one for subtleties and letting out a displeased sigh, Charlie put his arm around Claire and led her back to her sleeping bag.

Jack had to repair the torn appendage as best as he could without proper tools and Elle's bullet wound was proving more difficult than he first diagnosed. Yes, it missed the Brachial, but she was still bleeding more than she should have been. Running possible scenarios through his head, Jack attended to her wound with precision and care. His fingers moved rapidly, poking and prodding the wound, excavating possible fragments of dirt and torn cartilage, pouring the alcohol to sterilize whatever bacteria might have made a home in her arm. Making the final knot in his stitching, Jack unprofessionally bit the thread off and proceeded to wrap her arm with a torn piece of sheet, as clean as they could manage on the island. Thanking Sun for her assistance, Jack stood up and walked to the running stream. Washing Elle's blood off his hands, Jack found himself taking a breath. I must have been holding it, he thought to himself. Cupping the cool water into his hands, he washed the sweat from his face. Finding a bottle of cool water, he returned to Elle, and attempted to get some water and crushed antibiotics down into her mouth.

"How long has she been out?" a concerned Sun asked.

"She made a witty remark about an hour ago." Jack quipped.

Sun amused that Elle had been her sassy self even when faced with a bullet wound, shook her head, and smiled down upon her. Elle hardly made a sound, but every now and then, tiny groans could be heard. Her eyes were moving rapidly beneath her lids and Sun wondered if she was dreaming.

"Now we wait," he sighed, "for her fever to break."

Sun wanted to ask Jack what happened but by the look on his face, she could tell he needed some rest. Practically forcing him to take a nap, Sun convinced him that she would watch over Elle and get him as soon as she came to. Reluctantly making his way to his sleeping bag, Charlie rushed him, asking him what had happened out there in the jungle. More importantly, did they find anything in that cockamamie hatch?

"_Not now_, Charlie," Jack brushed past him, leaving Charlie in the dark once again.

"Blimey Yank," Charlie grumbled and made his way over to Aaron as he watched Claire stroking Elle's tangled hair. He could have been mistaken, but he thought he could hear Claire singing to Elle, as she did to Aaron. Tucking the blanket tighter around Aaron, Charlie pecked him on the forehead and walked towards Claire.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Claire asked, her voice a bit shaky.

"Aye, he may be pompous sometimes, but he saved me, didn't he?" Charlie retorted, laying a warm hand on Claire's shoulder, reassuring her that Elle was safe in Jack's hands.

"You're right, Charlie," Claire smiled broadly, "plus, Elle wouldn't let a mere bullet take her down."

Grumbling something incoherent, Claire bent closer to Elle's lips and urged her to try again. Elle's flesh was feverish and clammy, yet her lips were a ghoulish shade of gray and trembling. Sun, noticing that Claire was tapping Elle on the shoulder, trying to get the woman to speak again, rushed over. Checking her wound, Sun pulled back the top layers of gauze and accidentally ripped the stitches. They had stuck to the gauze. Afraid to handle Elle's injury any further, she looked at Charlie.

"Get Jack," she ordered Charlie, "now!"

Charlie found Jack asleep outside the caves, his back up against a tree. He must have decided to get some air, he thought to himself, and the poor bloke passed out. Tapping him on the shoulder, jostling him awake, Charlie told him that something was wrong with Elle. Jack, jumped up at the sound of the emergency, and rushed back to the caves. He found Sun, tears in her eyes, apologizing.

"I didn't mean to…" but she could not finish.

"Sun, this isn't your fault." he assured her. "The threading is coarse; I knew this could be a possibility."

"That's why I have this," he pulled threading from his back pocket, "just in case."

Telling Sun that instead of taking that nap, he found a suitcase of clothing, and meticulously began to cut the stitching out from a pair of pants he found. Enough to stitch Elle up for a second time, Jack began to carefully remove the previous stitching. Knowing very well that he could be reinfecting the site, he made sure Sun was pouring alcohol over the area as he stitched her up. Elle's vitals were weak; she needed more antibiotics.

"Try to get her to come around," he instructed them, "she needs to swallow these." He had four tiny pills, twice the amount he had given her earlier.

Charlie, afraid to do much of anything, shouted her name repeatedly. Getting tired of his shouting, Claire smacked Elle in the face.

"Wake up damn it!"

They all stood there, shocked that Claire of all people smacked her, let alone cursed her. Telling them to get over themselves, she went to do it again. Her hand froze in midair as she heard a weak, but sarcastic voice.

"_I…dare…you…_," whispered Elle, her eyes locked on Claire, a small yet quivering smile upon her lips.

Elle had a momentary lapse in judgment and attempted to lift her hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. Screaming out in pain, Elle's arm dropped to her side, hitting the table with a hard thud. Electrical currents seized through her veins as they made their way to her brain. Fighting back the urge to vomit, she squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced as she bit her lip. Two tiny drops of blood slid down her chin. Holding her down as gently as he could, Jack told her she needed to relax. She needed to swallow these pills.

"Can you manage?"

Elle managed a witty answer, drawing on a breath each time she uttered a word.

"_Do…I have to…call you," _she choked on a laugh_, "in the morning?"_

Calling her a smart ass, Jack held her head in a supportive cradle as she swallowed the pills, water falling from her lips. He gently laid her head back down and unconsciously caressed the hair away from her forehead. The last thing Elle remembered was this small gesture. She fell into a deep and feverish sleep. Jack had slipped her a sedative among the antibiotics, afraid she'd attempt to move her arm again, while she slept. Elle dreamt of the ocean, she dreamt of Sawyer. Her dreams faded in and out of nightmarish scenes, debris floated along her oceans, shattered pieces of the raft, Sawyer's body, face down, floating along with the current. She couldn't wake up, it was as if she was floating alongside him. She tried so desperately to scream, but she found her words drowning with every breath she took.

Chapter 6

Dreams were one thing, but if Elle had only known that Sawyer and the rest of them were scattered among the waves, Walt taken from the hold of his father, she would have fought harder to recover. Their raft, blown to bits, sent them floating along the current, Jin's screams fading into the blackened night sky. All that was salvaged was a lone sea green bottle that floated safely home to her beach and found refuge in the hands of her closest friend, Claire.

Every now and then Elle would regain consciousness. Whoever was nearest to her would be able to keep her talking just long enough for Jack to gather pertinent information regarding her recovery. Her diet was sub par; she needed to ingest more fruit, the more natural juices and water, the better. She wasn't taking in enough liquids and her body was sweating out the fever but dehydrating her at the same time. Jack decided to move her to the hatch. There was a bed there and he felt she would be more comfortable.

In Jack speak, that meant Jack was spending most of his time in the hatch pulling shifts with Locke and trying to keep the hatch low on the radar. The damn counter on the wall began to count down, its incessant beeping, drowning out the pitter patter of the water leaking from the many cracks in the frame of the hatch. Locke was using the bathroom. Damn it, Jack thought to himself, he had better light a match in there. The more time he spent in the cellar of this bunker with _him_, the more he wanted to rip out his hair. Great, then we'd be twins, he laughed. Obviously, time spent with Locke, rendered Jack delirious.

"What _the hell_ is that?" Her voice was weak, but he noticed she applied an emphasis on some of her words, indicative that she may have been bothered. Any emotion she is expressing is worth it, if she stays awake, he thought to himself. Elle's head was throbbing and so was her left arm, which felt like dead weight at her side. How long have I been out, she wondered to herself. Elle attempted to prop herself up, remembering to favor her left arm. She heard Jack tapping away on a computer and when he entered the final keystroke, he came over to her and reached for her wrist to take her pulse.

"_That_," he told her, "is a warning that the sky is falling."

Furrowing her brow and giving him a quizzical look, Jack explained the function of the computer and how pressing a button will keep the island from blowing to tiny bits. Elle could sense that Jack didn't believe for one second that a button on a computer would keep the island from existing and joked with him.

"_One button to rule them all_."

Returning the quizzical glance, she referenced the Tolkien classic, _The Lord of the Rings_. Sawyer and I must be the only ones on this island who have read a damn book, she thought to herself. Jack thought about her comment and hoped it didn't come down to a button ruling their lives on the island. However, it did take up much of his time and Locke did seem to obsess over it.

Elle looked around the hatch and noticed a sink. Wondering if there was running water she asked Jack. Not only was there running water, there was a working shower too. Unsure if Jack was teasing her or not, she pressed him for more information. He told her about the pantry that was loaded with canned goods, cereals, shampoo, even chocolate bars. The look on Elle's face was priceless. Adding to the description, John Locke appeared and when Elle asked where he had come from, he told her he was in the bathroom.

"You drugged me, right?"

"Only prescription drugs, I promise."

Hurley appeared and with him was Rose. Behind them were Claire and Sun coming to check in on Elle. She had been out for almost two days and Claire wasn't sure if she should be the bearer of bad news, but after telling Sun, they both agreed that Elle needed to know as well.

"How goes it, dude?" Hurley asked Elle, handing her a small flower. Elle inhaled its fragrance, similar to orchids, her favorite. Thanking him, she could have sworn she saw his chubby cheeks blush.

"Yeah, uhh," he stammered, "it was like touch and go there for a minute."

Looking toward Jack for some sort of closure, he nodded, and told her that if the fever hadn't broken overnight, it was all a matter of faith. If you believe in that sort of thing, he mocked, as he turned his gaze toward Locke. Locke just raised his eyebrows and smiled at Elle.

"Glad to see you back with us." With that, he turned and walked out. Most likely taking his seat at the computer, Jack told her. Leaving Elle to visit with Claire and Sun, Jack asked her if she wanted anything. With all the options at her disposal, what she really longed for was her tent. Telling Jack this, she asked him if that was bizarre.

"Not as bizarre as the things you were saying while you were unconscious." Winking, he walked out. Jack headed back to the beach to retrieve _exactly _what the patient wanted.

Chapter 7

"You two look like someone died." Elle broke the silence that blanketed the air once Jack left her with her visitors.

"I'm alright, you two," she quickly added, noticing the worried glances Claire and Sun stole at one another.

Noticing that Sun had her hands behind her back, Elle began to smile. I wonder what she brought me, she thought to herself. She told them to have a seat. She missed them. She missed hearing Claire's laugh. While she was sedated, Elle could have sworn she had heard them talking to her. Maybe _that_ was all a dream too, as she recalled her ghastly nightmares.

"So, Sun…," she gestured with her good arm, "did you bring me flowers too?"

Sun and Claire again stole a glance at one another and this time Elle wasn't imagining anything. They were worried about something and she had to know.

"Alright, you two, that's enough!"

"Oh, Elle," Claire started, her approach was timid. She looked to Sun for support and Sun, took her hands from behind her back and the light from the ceiling reflected off something green in her hands. Blinking back a lone tear, Sun placed the bottle into Elle's strong hand. Sun explained how Claire was taking a walk along the beach when she found the bottle washed up on the shore. They really don't know why the bottle had washed up on shore; they all gave their own possible scenarios. _Maybe the bottle slipped off the raft after hitting some turbulent waters. Perhaps Walt misunderstood why they had the bottle with them and threw it into the ocean as he had seen in the movies. _For a moment, Elle laughed, thinking that it may have slipped out of Sawyer's hands.

"He's only gentle with a bottle if there's liquor in it."

Elle didn't want to think the worst and she wouldn't allow Sun to think the worst of her husband either. She turned the subject onto something that would sure bring a smile to all their faces.

"Jack told me they have chocolate in the pantry."

Claire made a face and told her she would rather have peanut butter. Sun soon joined in the conversation and told the girls she longed for cashews. Elle wanted to get up and raid the pantry but when she attempted to sit up and throw her legs over the edge of the bed, she became light headed. Noticing the color Elle had in her cheeks was draining, Sun helped her lay back down.

"_You_ rest there," she pointed to the bed, "_we'll_ get the food."

Elle, not one to just sit around and do nothing, offered them an exaggerated sigh, rolled her eyes and did as she was told. As Claire and Sun went to find what the pantry held, Elle adjusted herself onto the bed and found the bottle nested into her pillow. Scanning the room, making sure she was alone, she tried to uncork the bottle. Her left arm was useless; Jack had it wrapped in a sling. Placing the bottle between her knees, she held tightly with her legs while she popped the cork out with her right hand. Grains of sand fell out as the notes the survivors wrote, slid out onto her bed. They looked like hand rolled cigarettes and her mind automatically went to Sawyer. Elle felt guilty about what she was doing so she scanned the lot of them until she found a lined piece of paper. Slowly opening it, she quickly realized that she had the wrong note. She had found Claire's and quickly rolled it back up with the others. Tossing through the notes on the bed, Elle became agitated. Where is it, she wondered to herself. Her letter to Lily wasn't in the bottle. Haphazardly tossing the tiny scrolls, some fell to the floor. Grunting out of frustration, Elle slammed the bottle onto the mattress. As it rolled off the bed, and onto the floor, Sun and Claire came walking back from the panty. The bottle found itself at the feet of Claire once again.

"Elle, what's all this about?" Claire asked her, pointing to the mess of letters on the floor.

"My letter…," she put a hand to her head, "it's not there."

"Are you positive?" Sun asked her, a look of disapproval and sadness upon her face.

"I don't know why I did that," Elle offered, "it's like I just went through their lives, searching for a bit of my own."

Laying back, Elle drew her knees into her chest and wrapped her hand into the curls on her head. She revealed her dream to them, explained how worried she actually was that something horrible happened to Sawyer, to all of them, that she needed something tangible to hold onto. But even her letter was gone. Why only hers, she asked aloud, not really looking for an answer.

Placing the rest of the letters back into the bottle, Claire corked it and put in on the floor, near the edge of the bed. She bit her lip, as if she was thinking extremely hard on something and spoke.

"What if he has it?"

"Who?" Elle asked, "Sawyer?"

"Well no offense, hun, but he does have a tendency to stick his nose where it's not allowed."

This caused Elle to laugh a bit and she realized that Claire made a good point. It also made Sawyer seem so predictable and pathetic when she had to think about it. He really was an interfering son of a bitch wasn't he, she laughed aloud. A part of Elle felt warmer, like Sawyer was still connected to her somehow, wherever he may be. She still didn't feel one hundred percent sure of it though. Hoping to ease her mind a bit, Sun handed her a plate of fresh fruit. Wriggling her nose up at Sun, Elle asked her where the chocolate was.

"You need to work up your immune system," she sounded just like Jack, "and then you'll get the chocolate."

The three of them sat around eating fresh fruit, an assortment of mixed nuts, and to Claire's delight, peanut butter, straight out of the canister. They talked about their lives, before the island, laughing at how hard off they had thought they were, until they crashed on this island. Sun told them that she was going to leave her husband the day of their flight. Her eyes were downcast and her voice was low.

"Now I can't wait for his return."

Walking into their conversation, Jack obviously felt out of place. Stammering something about how he'll just come back, Claire raised an eyebrow up at Elle, and told Jack that they were just about to leave. Hugging Elle, Claire whispered she'd better behave herself, and Elle laughed. Insisting she only had eyes for one troubled man on this island, Claire nudged her.

"He isn't on the island, now is he?"

Shaking her head at Claire, she didn't realize how much that girl really needed to get some. Claire was right though, Sawyer wasn't on the island, and she missed him so much. Maybe that's why she hung around Jack, even though he infuriates her most of the time. So did Sawyer, she told herself. Quickly correcting her last thought, so _does_ Sawyer, she felt ashamed for thinking he wasn't coming back. Saying she'd see them later, Elle drew her gaze towards Jack. His arms were full of things, such familiar things, that she practically squealed.

"You brought my tent to me?"

"What the patient wants," he put some of her things on the bed, "the patient shall get."

Elle told Jack to squat down near her bed, so she could give him a hug. Jack reminded her of a high school boy, timid and cute when he got asked to dance. Jack squatted at the edge of her bed and assisted her as she threw her legs back over the edge. Using her good arm, she pulled Jack into a hug and held him close for a split second too long. Jack, awkwardly drew himself back and they stared at one another, waiting for the other to blink or turn away. Giving in first, Jack relinquished his gaze. Her eyes were so dark, yet still so empty; he knew he wasn't the one she hoped to see reflecting back at her.

Laughing at him, she told him that she didn't think he was taking orders. If that were the case, she would have asked for something a bit more extravagant. Jack began to put her books along the windowsill along with a frame she carried, picture less. Seeing the frame, Elle cringed. The baby's first photo should have gone in there. She didn't realize she had said anything regarding the baby until Jack chimed in that usually a baby's first photo was the mother's sonogram. Jack didn't think twice about what they were talking about until he realized Elle was going through a tiny box he procured from her tent. Pulling out the smeared sonogram, she asked Jack if he could place it in the frame. Reluctant to take the picture, he slowly reached out his hand.

"I didn't know you had a baby."

"I don't…," she turned to face the window, "I lost it."

Sucking in the air that seemed to grow denser as she spoke those words, Jack apologized for her loss. Telling him he had nothing to apologize for, she handed Jack a rumpled blue t-shirt.

"That isn't mine."

Looking at the shirt and back at her, Jack asked her if she was sure.

"It was in your tent, Elle," he pointed to a few other things, "along with everything there."

Handing her back the shirt, she unfolded it the best she could with one hand and shook it loose. The shirt smelled like menthol and that musky cologne Sawyer wore. Realizing it was his shirt she held it close to her chest and Elle inhaled Sawyer's scent. Watching her, Jack too had realized whose shirt it was, and for a second he felt jealous. Again, he felt secondary. Here he had taken care of her and she was falling for Sawyer all over again. With resentment in his voice, Jack asked,

"So, it is yours?"

"Yeah, Jack, it's mine."

Elle didn't notice the change in Jack's demeanor. She began looking through the rest of her belongings, and found a few items that she didn't have when she landed on this island. For starters, Sawyer's blue t-shirt, two tiny bottles of vodka, and a quarter pack of menthol cigarettes. Lastly, she found a book that wasn't hers either. Inside the cover of _Watership Down,_ she found Sawyer's handwriting scrawled across the page. _Hi'ya Gorgeous…Drinks are on me, but save me a cigarette for when I get back. Oh yeah, always wondered what you'd look like in one of my shirts. Maybe you can model it for me? _Elle could almost see a cheesy wink and that gorgeous smile of his as he wrote this. He didn't end with an _I love you_ or anything of the kind. A simple scrawl of his name, _James_, was all he needed to do, to show Elle his love.

Chapter 8

The next couple of days, Elle spent her time recuperating in the hatch. She went through the records, and felt like she was trapped in a time warp. A _twisted_ time warp, she laughed to herself, where the music is reminiscent of tie-dye and free love. As she had told Jack, almost a decade before she was born. She had gone through the bookshelves and flipped through a few of the books, but nothing caught her interest. She hated being cooped up, especially when she was either sick or in this case, maimed. She had yet to ask Jack why the feeling in her left hand wasn't completely there, but she just figured it was numb due to being in the sling.

Kate casually walked into the hatch, shocked to find Elle sitting at the computer. I thought it was my shift, she pondered. Elle told her that Hurley needed a break from the computer so she offered to take the shift. Kate was glad to spend some time with Elle. Spotting the bandage on Elle's arm, securely tied off with a piece of cloth, Kate cringed a bit. Pointing to Elle's arm, she apologized for that day in the hatch.

"I never meant for you to get hurt."

"Don't worry 'bout it," Elle laughed, "You know, wrong place and all that."

Together they worked on crossword puzzles, ransacked the cabinets looking for hidden treasure, and they even did their hair. Well, Kate helped Elle wash her hair out in the sink. It had been caked ever since that day they went searching for the dynamite and who knows what or who was left in her hair. Elle heard the warning that they needed to enter the code and she started towards the computer. Entering the final number and pressing the execute button, she commented on their task.

"I bet they're watching us right now."

"Who?" Kate asked with her brow furrowed in wonder.

"Whoever set up this whole _rat in a cage_ experiment."

Elle had been wondering why they were pushing that button ever since she watched the Orientation video Jack had watched. Either someone out there was playing a cruel joke and just wanted to see how far the _rats_ would go, or this button really did help keep the island alive, so to speak. Turning her head to face Kate, who was busy doing sit ups, Elle asked her if she thought there were other hatches on the island.

Stopping midway, her elbows tapping her knees, Kate honestly told Elle she didn't know, but always liked a challenge. Urging Elle to get better soon, she dared her that she wouldn't go running off blindly in search of another hatch. Looking up at Elle's arm, she inquired,

"Think you could keep up?"

Laughing, Elle told Kate she wasn't going to let her arm dictate her life.

"Plus, you're not the only one who likes a good run."

"You're gonna eat my dust."

Elle knew Kate hated to stand still and a trek through the jungle was just what she needed. There were days when Elle would be walking through the jungle and she'd see Kate climbing trees to gather fruit. She knew Kate hated to be cooped up as much as she did and figured she could handle the button until the next shift starts.

"Why don't you go back to the beach," Elle suggested, "Claire told me Charlie was out playing golf with Hurley."

"If you hurry, you could probably make good time."

Appreciative of the offer, Kate made sure Elle would be okay. Elle reassured her that Locke was supposed to be coming in about 15 minutes to sit over his beloved computer. They shared a laugh and Kate told her she'd be back to visit later. Elle told her to show the boys how golf is really played. Kate crinkled her nose and said that's exactly what she planned on doing.

Now sitting alone in the hatch, Elle became aware of just how spacious and empty it was when one was there alone. She walked around station to station, turning the faucet on and off in the sink, shaking her head in disbelief. This whole time we were stranded, she thought to herself, there was a little home away from home. She found her way back to her bed and pulled out a cigarette that Sawyer had left for her. She hadn't smoked since the day Boone died and little Aaron was born and she missed the taste of the menthol. _I miss the taste of him_. Rummaging through the drawers near the sink, she found a small book of matches. Striking a match, the sulfur rose to her nostrils as she lit her cigarette. Shaking the match out, tiny wisps of black smoke curled and dissipated into the air. She inhaled the cigarette and let the sweet nicotine swim around her lungs. Exhaling, she made her way back to her bed and reread the message Sawyer had written in the book. She was wearing his shirt today, it was a perfect fit, a bit loose, but he was broader than she was. She pictured him in the blue t-shirt and remembered how it fit him. Tight enough that you could see the outline of his abs. He liked to show off his physique and Elle ruminated over a mental picture of him out of a shirt as well as in one. Missing him more than ever, she mumbled a tiny wish to herself.

"_Bring him back safely_."

Chapter 9

Elle finished putting in the code and walked back to her bed. Locke did make an appearance and seemed a bit bothered that Elle wanted to finish off the shift herself. _He is obsessed_, she thought to herself. After witnessing his behavior when they went looking for the dynamite and they blew open the quarantined door, she was even more wary of him. A bit uneasy being alone with him in the hatch, she told him that she was going to take a small nap. Locke simply nodded and mumbled something incoherent as he squared himself off on the chair and tidied the _mess_ she had left near the computer.

As Elle made herself comfortable, she was startled to hear the frantic voices of both Jack and Kate coming from the front of the bunker.

"We need to get him into shower," Jack demanded, "he's burning up."

Jack instructed Kate to get him antibiotics, gauze pads, and alcohol. Hearing the familiar materials that he urged Kate to retrieve, Elle was aware that someone was injured and suffering from something ill fated. Elle saw Jack carrying someone, their unkempt hair hanging over their face. A glimpse of the man's semi conscious face startled Elle. Running towards the shower, she shouted his name.

"Sawyer!"

As she slid to an abrupt stop, she felt Jack's hand on her shoulder, pushing her aside. Unaware that she had run straight into the shower, her clothes soaked, she stood there with her jaw slacked. Cold water dripped down her face, tiny droplets landing on her shirt, leaving their mark as tears would. Water from the shower was bouncing off Sawyer's body, as Jack ripped off the sleeve of Sawyer's shirt. Sawyer had a wound, obviously infected, scar tissue closing off the entry wound. Elle's hand unconsciously grabbed her own injured arm and realized Sawyer too had been shot. Elle not wanting to leave his side asked what she could do.

"Get new sheets on the bed, Elle," his voice cold and stern, "looks like you're going to have company."

Elle hurriedly prepared the bed as best she could; the feeling in her left hand was minimal. She strained to use just the one arm and found it difficult to make the bed. Coming to her aide, Kate glanced down as the sheet slipped from Elle's hand.

"Shaky hands." Elle lied.

With an approving nod, Kate believed Elle. She assisted her as she tucked in the corners and put a friendly hand on her shoulder. Looking across to the shower, Jack working diligently on Sawyer's wound, she focused back on Elle. Elle's face was colorless, making the black of her eyes more prominent. Kate found her eyes to be almost hollow, fear making itself a home in her sockets. Gently squeezing her shoulder, Kate told her he would be alright. Jack called Kate for assistance and together they carried Sawyer over to the bed, Elle had recently been recuperating in. Moving aside, Kate gave room for Elle to sit with Sawyer as Jack wrapped his wound. Elle, sat with her back against the window, cradled Sawyer and stroked his wet hair away from his face.

"Sawyer," she whispered, "can you hear me?"

His lips moved, but only garbled sounds escaped in erratic breaths. Jack brought over a glass of water and a pill for Sawyer to take. Instructing Sawyer to drink and swallow, Sawyer refused, the water and pill spilling from his mouth. Choking on his breath, Elle calmly told him that he had to swallow the pill. Jack attempted for a second time and as Elle coaxed Sawyer, he was amazed at how Sawyer listened to her. Scooting back from her position, she allowed Jack to help guide Sawyer to recline back onto the bed. Elle, spooning Sawyer, her left arm hanging limply on his chest, caressed his forehead with a kiss. Elle felt Sawyer's body shiver against her and she looked toward Jack.

"Is he going to be…," she choked back a tear, "alright?"

Jack, the corner of his mouth, upturned into a half smile, told her what she wanted to hear. Unfortunately, only time would really tell if Sawyer would be okay. His wound was infected causing his blood to become septic. The shivering he was experiencing was his body's way of fighting off the fever and infection. However, Jack didn't tell her any of this.

"I did what I could, Elle," he promised her, "he needs rest…," his voice trailed off as he looked at her.

"He needs _you_."

Elle could see her reflection in Jack's eyes and knew something had changed, but she couldn't wrap her mind around it. She was grateful for Jack, for all he had done, for her, for Sawyer, for all of them. She thanked him for everything and he reached for her hand, giving her a squeeze. Elle hardly flinched at his grasp as he noticed that the tips of most of her fingers were cold to the touch. He brought his gaze back up to her face.

"When were you going to tell me that you lost feeling in your hand?"

Shifting her eyes down to Sawyer's face, she told Jack that she didn't think anything was wrong.

"I figured they were numb because of being in that damn sling." She raised her eyes back to Jack.

"But it's been out of the sling for a whole day now…"

Jack quickly switched out of the friend role and easily jumped back into the doctor role. He asked Elle to squeeze his hand as hard as she could. Simply nodding when she did so, Jack asked Kate to get him something thin and sharp. Not able to find a needle, Kate returned with a metal fork. Handing it to Jack, he looked at her with one eyebrow raised in question.

"Sorry, all I could find."

Elle quickly laughed as she saw Jack attempt to poke her with the fork.

"You're not seriously going to poke away at me like I'm a piece of meat are you?"

Sawyer, his voice growled, the southern twang, vibrated the air.

"Easy, _Doc_."

They all quieted down as they stared at Sawyer, his eyes fluttered open, just long enough to glare at Jack.

"Don't go man-handlin' mah woman."

Elle laughed and looked down onto Sawyer's face. Sighing she was never as happy as she was now; she kissed his forehead, forgetting that she may have lost the use of her left hand. She was quickly brought back to the present as Sawyer grimaced at her touch. She didn't realize she had squeezed him so hard as she hugged his body close to her own. He managed a tiny smile and as quickly as he had come to, Sawyer passed back into the unconscious realm of a feverish sleep.

"That's good, right?" she asked Jack.

"I mean, he made a joke, Jack."

"Yeah, Elle," Jack shook his head, "it seems he's just as stubborn as you."

Holding the fork up, Jack took a hold of her left arm and began prodding at it with the metal prongs. He started at her shoulder and told her to nod if she felt anything. Nodding at the location of her shoulder, she felt the cold metal prick her skin. He lowered the fork to her bicep, in close proximity to her wound. Elle nodded as she gritted her teeth in pain. The area was still tender to the touch. Next, Jack placed the tip of the fork into forearm and upon receiving a nod from Elle, he lowered the fork to her wrist. Elle couldn't feel the fork, as much as she tried to feel it, she couldn't. Thinking to herself how crazy it was to see the fork prick her skin, it was inconceivably as hard to imagine she couldn't feel a damn thing. Judging by the loss of feeling in some of her fingers, Jack ascertained that some of her nerves may have been damaged and shattered when the bullet ripped through her arm. Feeling that he had failed her somehow, he apologized.

"I should have paid more attention."

"Jack, you did all you could do," she smiled up at him, "I don't blame you."

"Plus, you said so yourself, I'm stubborn, remember?"

The sad news that Elle would most likely not regain complete feeling in her left hand was overshadowed by the harrowing news that one of their own had been killed just outside of their camp. Locke entered, behind him a tall, muscular man, his skin black as coal, looked down on the four of them. Jack jumped to his feet, looked at the stranger who had carried Sawyer back to their beach, and demanded some answers. The man, his eyes kind, his voice smooth as silk, answered Jack with a few words. Locke, jumping to the man's aide, urged Jack to calm down.

"I don't think this is the best way to approach things, Jack."

"No, John?" Jack crossly attacked him.

"Shannon's dead," Jack screamed, "Sawyer's been shot."

Eko's voice interrupted the argument that was nearing its approach.

"It was an accident."

Kate gasped as she heard the words, _Shannon's dead_. She shot Elle a worried glance and she knew Kate was wondering about Sayid. The man, Mr. Eko, offered to take Jack back to where he had left his friends. Michael, his shirt tattered and his hair, little knotted raisins upon his head, ran into the hatch, out of breath. Elle couldn't believe what she was seeing. Michael, so happy to see his friends, looked down on Sawyer and Elle and remembered what they had been through. His smile, slowly turning into a solemn frown, told them what had happened on the raft. He told them how they had found other survivors of Flight 815 and how they had been traveling towards their beach for days, encountering the _Others_, and sadly, how Walt had been kidnapped. One of the tail end survivors, an Ana Lucia had shot Shannon, thinking she had been an _Other_.

"Ana Lucia?" Jack asked, seeming to recognize the name.

Mr. Eko confirmed Michael's information with a simple nod of his head and offered some solid advice.

"If you are to avenge the death of your friend, I will not be of service to you."

"But if you choose to go into the jungle to retrieve those you have thought _lost_, with a heart void of revenge, I will be glad to take you back."

Jack walked off with the strange but eerily calm man, leaving Elle alone with Sawyer, while Kate took Michael back to the beach to see the rest of their friends. Locke stayed behind, the only one aware that they had to still push a button. Asking Elle if she had needed anything, she simply shook her head and looked down on Sawyer as he fitfully slept.

"No, John," she smile, "I have everything I need."

Chapter 10

Elle woke up to the convulsions of Sawyer's body fighting off the fever that invaded his immune system. Easing away from his warm body, Elle carefully folded down the sheet to uncover his upper torso. Sawyer was an embodiment of sweat, his hair matted to his skull, the bed sheet damp to the touch. She scooted herself to the bottom of the bed where she carefully threw her legs over the edge and pushed off with her good hand. She made her way to the sink where she soaked a small washcloth in cold water and wrung it out in a small basin.

Carrying both over to the bed, she blotted his forehead with the cloth. She wrung out the towel and immersed it into the basin to soak up the water. She wiped down his chest, gently stroking his pectoral muscles as she traced his abdomen with the cloth. As she got closer to his waist, she thought she heard his voice, but at this hour of the night, she quite possibly could have been hearing things. Dampening the cloth for the third time, she ran it over his chest.

"Hey…," she heard him whisper.

"Hey yourself." Elle quipped back, gently placing a kiss on his mouth.

"You think you could drink something?"

Grumbling a reply, Elle went to get him a glass of water, so she could administer his antibiotic. She returned, with the pill bottle in her left hand, the glass in her right. Placing the glass down, Elle maneuvered the bottle the best she could do, but it slipped out of her hand, falling to the floor. The tiny white pills scattered like snowflakes on the bunker's floor.

"God-damn-it!"

Frustrated with herself, she knelt to the floor to gather up the pills. It's useless, she mumbled to herself, _I'm useless_. Refilling the bottle, she kept one out and propped Sawyer up onto the pillows. Feeding him the pill along with a couple sips of water, she eased him back onto the pillows.

"…ain't useless." he told her.

"Always have use for ya."

Laughing at him, she told him that they were some pair. Both shared the love of a good con and now they shared matching bullet wounds. Luckily, for them, they had a bed to share as well.

"If you ever feel up to it," she joked with him.

Sawyer replied that for once in his life, he hadn't felt up to anything. This was the most he had talked since he passed out in the jungle and even talking was draining the very life out of him. Elle was tempted to tease him some more, but hated to see him so vulnerable. Worse, she hated feeling less than one hundred percent whole. She confided in Sawyer about her hand. She told him how stubborn she was to believe that she couldn't be weakened and how while he was gone all she had thought about was how whole she felt with him by her side. She told him about her excursion with Jack when they went through the hatch and how a bullet ripped through her arm and how she was in the same place as he was currently in. Urging him to get better, for the both of us, she pleaded, she felt exhausted as well.

"Now, you're back," she sighed, "and I'm happy for that."

"But I can't pretend that I hated feeling so alone, no matter who was around."

Listening intently to her every word, Sawyer opened his eyes and looked into the eyes he had missed so much, especially when he was holed up in a dirt pit. Trying to find the words, he mustered all the energy he had left and told her,

"I ain't goin' anywhere, Brownie Bits."

With that, he closed his eyes, and Elle watched him sleep for the next few hours. Not able to fall back asleep she left his side and walked into the next room that housed the computer. Finding Jack there, she walked over to the couch and stole a cushion. Placing it next to his swivel chair, she sat cross-legged and perched her head in her hands.

"How's the hand?" he inquired, grateful to be staring at something more interesting and frankly, more beautiful than that drab computer screen.

"Still the same," she attempted to wave her fingers at him, only a few moved ever so slightly.

"Can't seem to hold onto things for too long though." she explained, telling Jack how she dropped the pill bottle earlier.

Tossing her a small rubber ball that he found in one of the drawers, he told her to squeeze it for fifteen minutes a day, to work on strengthening the muscles in her hand. It was worth a try, he suggested. Shrugging that she would try it, she turned her head towards the bunk bed, where Sawyer slept.

Watching her attention being swayed by another man who was sleeping, Jack felt his jaw tighten, as he ground his teeth.

"How's he doing?"

"Talking more," she told him, "but not himself."

Looking at her with a bewildered gleam in his eyes, Jack asked her what she meant by that. Laughing, she could hardly stand his face as she told him,

"Not like Sawyer to turn down a good roll in the sack."

Shaking his head at Elle, he told her that she had painted a picture he could do without seeing.

Throwing the ball at him, she told him he was a prude and he needed to live a little.

"Sometimes, Jack, you're just too serious for your own good."

Chapter 11

Elle asked Jack to look over Sawyer as she took a shower. Not only were the sheets a mass of sweat from his breaking fever, so was she. She hadn't used the shower yet and it was about time she did. Jack told her he would watch Sawyer and he would rebandage her arm when she got out. Thanking him, she walked to the shower and turned on the water. She let it steam up the glass doors and she got in. The water stung her wound but she didn't let that stop her. Lathering up the soap, she began to scrub at her skin, making crude circles with the washcloth. Drops of blood from her wound swirled down the drain at her feet. Looks like peppermints, she thought to herself. As she washed her hair, she inhaled the fruity shampoo. Standing directly under the showerhead, the water enveloped her body whole. As the shampoo rinsed out, she wrung out her hair, and turned off the water.

Wrapping a towel around herself, she stepped out onto the chilly cement floor and began to dry herself off. Getting dressed, she pulled on a pair of her favorite jeans. Faded blue, from all the wear and tear, they had holes in the knees. Throwing on a snug but comfortable tee, she looked at herself in the mirror. She couldn't believe what was staring back at her. Her olive skin was even darker, from all the time she spent on the beach. The light blue of her shirt brought out her eyes and complimented her skin. Her dark hair shone with auburn highlights, thanks to the sun. It had been months since she saw herself in a mirror. Funny the things you learn to live without, she thought to herself.

She turned so that her left arm was in the mirror. Running her fingers on both sides of her arm, she could feel where the bullet sliced through her. The back of her arm was healing faster, a slight fleshy bump had raised and sealed over. The front of her arm was bruised with a lovely mix of purples and greens. Raising her arm, she attempted to wiggle her fingers. Slowly but surely, with a great amount of pain, she was able to move each finger. Cringing at the pain, she lowered her arm, and slipped into a pair of flip-flops and headed back out to the bed.

She heard Jack talking to Sawyer as he wiped down his forehead with a damp cloth. Peering around the concrete wall, she saw Jack applying a new bandage to Sawyer's arm.

"You're one lucky son of a bitch," Jack told him, "she really cares for you."

Hearing those words, Elle blushed a bit; shocked that Jack would say something so nice about her. She heard Sawyer mumble a bit and Jack answered that Elle was taking a shower.

"She's just as tough and stubborn as you are, Sawyer," he continued, "but even Elle needs a little time for herself."

"This whole time you were gone," Jack confessed, "I made sure to look after her."

"She's a beautiful person, Sawyer," he came to a stop.

"Don't screw that up."

Elle was a bit taken back by Jack's sincerity and felt awkward for eavesdropping. About to turn the corner and make her entrance known, she stopped when she heard Sawyer's voice.

"_I…love…her_."

Jack sat there, holding his breath. Did that hard ass just tell me that he loves Elle, he asked himself. Asking Sawyer to repeat himself, he got the same response with a sarcastic twist.

"I said…" he took a deep breath, "that I love her."

"You deaf, Doc?"

Laughing at this last remark, he welcomed Sawyer back to the land of the living. Elle didn't come around that corner, she felt like those two needed their moment, even if the topic was her. She took in Sawyer's words. He loves me, she thought to herself. Elle knew he had, but she never heard him sound so serious. The thought alone scared her a bit. Thinking she had never told him that she loved him, she thought back to her letter. Remembering she wrote that she was in love with him, she wondered if he had really read it. Smiling a bit to herself, she entered the room, ignoring the fact that she had heard their conversation.

Jack was a bit surprised that she had come around the corner; he was in a vulnerable state, talking with Sawyer. He glanced up at her to see if he could tell she had heard their conversation but Elle feigned and controlled her features, so all he saw was the beautiful person he told Sawyer she was.

"You two getting cozy without me?" she teased them.

"The Doc ain't my type," Sawyer looked over at her, motioning for her to take a seat by his side. Scooting up to a sitting position, the sheet fell below his waste and he realized he was in nothing but his boxers. Quickly grabbing the sheet, he turned to Jack and made a face.

"Tell me you ain't the one who stripped me." he squirmed a bit, feeling a bit uncomfortable that he was holding a conversation with another man in nothing but his drawers.

"Well…," Jack began, "you got pretty soaked in that shower."

Wrinkling his nose up at Jack, he reached for Elle's hand and pulled her close.

"Darlin'?" he pouted a bit, "tell me it ain't so."

Jack made his way over to Elle and as she sat there teasing Sawyer, he applied some medicinal ointment to her wound and wrapped it securely with a new bandage. Laughing gently, not to damage his ego, Elle told Sawyer that she was the one who took his clothes off. Playfully poking him in the side, she couldn't help but tease him a bit more.

"You two _were_ in the shower together though," she winked, "Jack pushed me out."

"Aww hell," he complained, "if I was gonna shower with somebody, it sure as hell wouldn't have been the Doc."

Revealing why he was "in the shower" with Jack, they told Sawyer how Eko had carried him back to the beach and how he was in bad shape. Explaining how he was septic and running a high fever, the cold shower was all they had to use to regulate his body's temperature. Adding to the seriousness of the conversation, Jack commented on Sawyer's surgery skills.

"Michael told me you pulled that bullet out with your fingers."

"You're going to have to teach me that one some day."

"I don't recommend it to the faint of heart," Sawyer quipped.

"That son-of-a-bitch hurt like all hell."

"Good thing you aren't the faint of heart, Sawyer." With that, Jack left Elle with Sawyer, but not before, he turned to Sawyer and added,

"Don't forget what I said," pointing a finger towards Elle.

"I ain't screwin' that up, Jack."

Elle scrunched her brow and looked to Sawyer.

"You two keepin' secrets now?"

Knowing very well what it was about, she wasn't going to ruin their bonding moment. Pulling her close to his chest, he took her hand in his and entwined their fingers. Tracing the veins up from her wrist to the fresh white cloth that was tied around her bicep, he stopped and played with the knot. Frowning a bit, he kissed her arm, and told her how he had wished he had been there to protect her.

"Thinkin' about ya was what kept me goin'."

Elle rested her head on his shoulder and listened to him tell her what he had been through up to the point he passed out in the jungle and dreamt of his homecoming. I thought we'd been rescued wakin' up in this bed next to you, he told her.

"Still on this damn island, aren't we?"

Nodding a yes, she told him how unfortunate that was, but nonetheless, she was happy that he was back. She told him about how Claire had found the bottle of messages on the beach. She gave in to his little boy smile and told him that she couldn't find her message and thought all was lost to her.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered.

"Take more than a bullet, darlin'."

Telling her to go through the back pocket of his jeans, she didn't get up right away. Nudging her, he told her to go and bring him his damn jeans. Watching her walk away from him, he took in her every movement, from the sway of her hips, to the bounce in her curls. Smiling to himself, Sawyer watched her as she put her hand into his back pocket she pulled out that worn envelope he carried around with him. Holding it up with a questioned look upon her face, she asked him,

"This what you wanted?"

"Open it up."

Elle opened up the envelope and pulled out two distinct letters. One was Sawyer's, the handwriting of a child, the writing smudged from tears he had cried as he read it repeatedly, the other letter…

"You had this the whole time?" she waved her letter at him.

"I couldn't resist."

She walked back over to him and laid along side him, the letter resting on her chest. Tapping the paper with her good hand, she looked up at him. He told her how he would always be a nosey bastard but when he read her letter, he wanted to be more. She made him want to be more in life. Sawyer promised her that he would do whatever it took to find that sister of hers. I want to be a part of you, he kissed her.

"I love you, Elle."

Hugging him, she reciprocated his sentiment with a long, warm, kiss.

"Who doesn't?" she kissed him again.

The look on his face made her want to kiss him ten times over. Scrunching his nose, he pointed out the window towards the beach.

"Looks like Captain Hero might just be a bit smitten with you."

"He isn't that _bad_," she coyly said, dually implying that Jack was decent but lacked that bad boy persona which she loved.

"Which is why I chose _you_."

"You two weren't the only ones bonding over bullet wounds and gauze pads."

"I may have been playin' nice with Jack, but when do I ever enjoy playin' _nice_?" she winked at him.

"You really know how to make a fella feel special."

Rolling her eyes, she asked him if he needed a refresher course. Sawyer batted his eyelashes and in his thick drawl, told her _yes ma'am_. She bit her lip and it drove him crazy. Hmm, where do I start, she asked him, tracing a finger along his forehead.

"I…"

She kissed his forehead.

"Love…"

She kissed his mouth, long and hard.

"You."

Chapter 12

Sawyer and Elle moved from the honeymoon suite equipped with bunk beds, a working shower, and multiple rooms they consummated their relationship in, for two tents along side one another on the beach. Sawyer's mood was less than pleasant. He stalked around his tent, rummaging through his belongings, only to find out that while he had gone on the raft, Jack and the others raided it for the medicine.

"Son of a _bitch_!" his face was as red as a prostitute in a church.

Elle came out of her tent, concerned that others would hear his ranting. Lifting back the flap to his tent, she poked her head in and asked if she could help him out. Sawyer, who was squatting over his minimal cache of pilfered items, turned his head to face her. She had never seen him so angry.

"You wanna help, darlin'?"

"Charm the Doc and get my shit back." His eyes said _I dare you_, his mouth said, _you wouldn't_.

"You're the charmer, Sawyer," she smirked, "get your own shit back." With that, she turned on her heels and ducked out of his tent.

Sawyer walked out of his tent, rolled up the sleeves of his green button down, and ran a hand through his hair. He was kicking up sand as he shuffled his feet towards Elle. Lowering his gaze, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it up as he apologized to her. His apology, coated in smoke, swirled up to her nose, and she inhaled deeply.

"Don't just stand there, pass it here," she motioned to his cigarette.

Handing her the cigarette, he wrapped his arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck.

"Makes me hotter than spit on a griddle when people take my stuff."

Shrugging him off her, she told him that it wasn't his stuff to begin with. He looked at her and all he saw was a goody two shoes. Damn Jack, he thought to himself. Since when did she care where it came from, as long as she had access to the little bottles of vodka, or a good book to read?

"I'm thinkin' the Doc's been rubbin' off on ya, since I've been gone."

"No one was rubbin' off on anyone, James." Telling him she didn't care whether he got his stash of goods back or not, she was about to walk away, when out of nowhere it started to pour. Putting his hands over his head, he shouted to her to get in the tent.

"It's rainin' buckets, baby, get in here!"

Hearing a voice screaming for help, she asked him if he had heard it. The rain was ricocheting off the sand, pelting them like bullets, and Elle jumped at the sound. She heard it again; the screams were coming from the jungle. She grabbed his hand and they ran off towards the voice. Finding Sun, her arms tied, laying unconscious on the jungle floor, Sawyer picked her up and carried her to the beach.

"Get the Doc!"

Elle ran off in a rush, bumping into Hurley. Asking him if he had seen Jack, he told her that he was in the hatch. Hurley asked what was going on and Elle informed him that Sun had been injured. Coming around the corner was Kate. Hearing what had happened and seeing that Elle was out of breath from running, her arm, loosely hanging at her side, Kate offered to run and get Jack. Elle made her way back to the beach to find Sun still unconscious, a welt forming on her forehead. Jack came running over, ordering people to stand back and give Sun some room to breathe. Checking for her pulse, he told Jin that she would be fine.

Elle stood back and watched Jack work. She felt horrible seeing Sun lying there, if only she had gotten to her in time. _Why did it have to be Sun_? Sawyer looked over to Elle, nodding to make sure she was okay. He pursed his lips and turned towards Kate.

"I'm goin' back out there," he pointed towards the spot where they found Sun, "feel up to a bit of trackin'?"

"Why don't you ask Elle," she innocently asked, "She's as good a tracker as I am."

"She ain't feelin' up to it," he gestured at his own wounded arm, "takin' care of me has gone and worn out the woman."

Falling in step with Sawyer, Elle watched as Kate and Sawyer went into the jungle. Elle saw Charlie standing along with Claire and Aaron. Walking over, she made her presence known subtly. Reaching for Aaron, she kissed the little boy on his head, wiping off some fallen raindrops. Charlie took in a deep breath and exhaled.

"Shame what happened, aye?"

"Do you think it was the _Others_?" Claire asked Elle, apprehension glazed her eyes.

Remembering what Sawyer told her from his trek out in the jungle with Jack and Locke, the _Others_ told them that if they stayed on their side of the proverbial line, harm wouldn't befall them. Shaking her head, side to side, Elle told Claire,

"They made a deal," her voice willing a strength she hadn't needed in a long time, "we kept our promise."

"Well, you don't think it was one of our own," Claire whimpered, "do you?"

Looking off towards Sun and the few that gathered around her tent, Elle shrugged a bit. She didn't know the newcomers that well, except for Eko who carried Sawyer back to their camp and she felt comforted by him, some how. However, one of them, the one that shot Shannon, gave her the chills. Usually Elle rubbed someone the wrong way.

"Quite honestly, ever since those tail-enders arrived, _that one_," Elle pointed to Ana Lucia, "makes my skin crawl."

Moments later, Sawyer and Kate came walking out of the jungle and headed off in opposite directions. He walked over to Elle and the others and tapped Aaron under the chin. The baby cooed and Sawyer wrinkled his nose. Waving the air around, he implied that Aaron had dirtied his diaper. Rocking Aaron back and forth in her arms, Elle laughed as Sawyer turned a light green and motioned to their tents.

"I need a nap," winking at Elle, he told her to hand over the baby and if she wanted, she could rock him to sleep.

Regretfully handing the baby back to Claire, she laughed.

"Here I thought there was only one baby on this island."

Charlie watched as Elle and Sawyer made their way across the beach, hand in hand. Making their way into her tent, she closed over the flap and sat down on a seat from the plane Sawyer left her along with the cigarettes and book. Arching her back, she stretched her arms over her head, and let out an exasperated sigh. Looking over at Sawyer, her lips turned down. He pulled her down on top of him and kissed her until her frown turned upside down. They talked until the sun set.

Chapter 13

Elle woke up and found herself alone in the tent. It had grown dark and she made her way towards the edge of the beach. The cool water of the ocean snuck up on her toes causing shivers to rise and fall down her spine. Claire walked up behind her and caught her by surprise.

"Did the argument wake you?"

Looking at Claire, bewilderment in her eyes, she questioned Claire. Claire pointed down the beach to a campfire. There stood Jack and Locke going at one another. They were fighting about the guns. The guns they agreed to keep locked up. Now they were missing and Jack wanted some to go after the _Others_ and find Michael.

"Where are they, John?"

Locke stood there stone-faced, not giving into Jack's demands. He casually told Jack that he wasn't going to start handing out the guns. Michael was gone, could be dead for all he knew, and that was on his head. He wasn't going to start handing out guns whenever something went wrong. Walking towards the campfire, Elle and Claire stopped short as they heard gunfire coming from the jungle. Sawyer emerged, a shotgun draped over his shoulder.

"You gave _him_ the guns?" Jack asked Locke, his hands on his hips.

Surprisingly enough, John just stood there, hardly saying a word. He rarely showed emotion but this time, he was shocked.

"No, no, Jack," he shook his head, "I hid the guns."

Sawyer walked over to the fire, the flames flickered and reflected off his hair like a lightshow. Sawyer stood there, brazen and bold as ever.

"Please, Jack, he's as stupid as you were."

"Too concerned for yourselves, you neva' saw me comin'."

Scanning the crowd, his eyes fell on Sayid. Mocking him, he jested that he was sure Sayid would really love to torture him. Scanning over Sayid's head, he spotted Kate, and just smirked. Kate looked disgusted and shook her head disapprovingly at him. Finally, he landed on Elle and together they shared something so underhanded that Elle could feel Claire's horrified glare burning through her skin. Moving away from Claire, Elle kept her eyes on the fire, bit her lip, and turned to Sawyer. Jack made a grab for her, but she dodged his hand.

"It was so easy," she told him, "I almost feel sorry for you."

Taking her place next to Sawyer, he gave a harrowing speech. He berated them for taking his stuff while he was out there trying to find them rescue. He looked at the crowd and told them he pitied them for looking towards Jack and Locke as their leaders when all they did was boss people around.

"Half the time," he laughed, "they are at each other's throats."

"I don't want my stuff back, 'cuz none of it matters."

"Guns matter," he sniffed at the air, "and if you want one, you have to go through me."

Walking off towards his tent, he left them with these final words:

"New sheriff in town," his hair blowing back off his face, "ya'll best get used to it."

Whispers around the campfire were about Sawyer but mostly they were about Elle. They never saw it coming. They expected it of Sawyer, he wasn't a good man, he was selfish, but Elle? Kate slowly made her way to their tents and sat down at the fire that Sawyer made out front. Elle was scratching at the sand with a twig, her back against his. She couldn't look him in the eyes just yet. She hated herself, for what they did. How could she ever look Claire in the eyes again? What did she do? She never knew Sun was going to play such a vital role in the con, if she did, she may have not gone through with it. All she knew was that someone other than Sawyer hurt Sun and she was angry. He wouldn't have done anything to Sun. He couldn't risk it. Kate spoke.

"Why do you two want people to hate you so much?"

"You," addressing Elle, "I never would have imagined."

"That's just it, Kate," Elle replied, "_no one_ did."

"The truth is Freckles," Sawyer's words smooth like molasses, came out slow and thick, "you run, we con…"

"Tiger don't change its stripes."

Asking them if they had anything to do with Sun and her being kidnapped, Elle glared at her.

"Like hell, we did, Kate."

With that, Kate got up and walked off. She never looked back. Elle leaned over Sawyer and took his hands into her own. He leaned his head back onto her chest and told her how sorry he was that he involved her.

"You didn't twist my arm, Sawyer," she told him, "I made up my own mind."

"If you're going to be the outcast, again," she pulled at his oat colored hair, "I figured it could get lonely out here."

_Conceding_ to her past demons, Elle felt like she was back in her old shoes. She pulled a con over most of the islanders and she never felt better. She looked back on her first days on the island, how tough she was, and how much baggage she crashed here with along with everyone else. What ever happened to _that _girl, she wondered. How did I get so soft? Her stomach turned and she was reminiscent of the night she pulled her last con, and how she lost the baby.

"A penny for your thoughts?" he asked her, noticing she stopped paying attention to him and their conversation.

"I was just feelin' good about myself," she pushed at him, "but I guess a person like me doesn't get to feel too good for too long."

Sympathetic as he could be, he took her face in his hands and looked her square in the eyes. There they knelt towards the other, their hollow eyes focused on one another. Sawyer took in her fudge colored eyes and he could see his own past haunting him. Elle did the same, however what she saw, didn't frighten her, and it didn't soothe her. She felt _nothing_.

"I told you I was never a good person," he reminded her, "yet you stuck around."

"Where else would I go?" her words lingered in the air, chilling Sawyer.

_God, _how he hated the fact that he corrupted her_._ No matter how much I love her, I'm always goin' to hurt her, he thought to himself. Jack was right; I am bound to screw this up. He swallowed hard; did he really just tell himself that the Doc was right? The thought made him sick to his stomach.

Chapter 14

Letting the dirty laundry air out from the previous night, Elle made her way into the jungle to get away from the dirty looks. What hurt the most was the fact that she couldn't look at Claire without having the words to make things right. When Elle confided in Claire about her past, she understood her; she took her in as a friend. Now, Claire wouldn't look twice at her, even as Elle made her way across the beach, just to get a glimpse of her and Aaron.

Elle took her backpack with her, not knowing where she was going or what she would come in contact with. All I know, she thought to herself, is that I need to get away from here. The air was thick and wet, from the rain the previous night, causing the leaves on the trees to sag and shed tears atop Elle's head as she walked beneath them. She sliced at the brush as she took a hidden path, collecting a papaya here, a mango there, cutting pieces as she walked aimlessly. The sweet meat of the fruit tasted bitter, suiting Elle's mood. Throwing the skin and pits to the ground, she laughed to herself. Eventually, some insects will find them, devour them, and defecate them back into the soil, where another fruit tree will make its home. Every damn thing she has deemed _good_ and _beneficial_ in her life has come from something filthy and undignified.

What I need, is a good run, she thought to herself. Elle ran West through the jungle, pushing herself even harder than she should, her stitches, ripping and burning with every swing of her arm. Elle came to a halt, bent at the waist, her hands resting on her knees. Panting, her breath came out hot and erratic, her chest heavy with guilt. Her breathing became even more sporadic, her chest convulsing, her breath caught in her throat. She was having a panic attack and didn't know what the hell she should do. Do I take in small breaths through my nose or do I breathe through my mouth?! What she needed was a paper bag, what she got was unexpected.

She heard someone running behind her, sticks breaking under their heavy footing. She turned her head ever so slightly to see who it was. If she wasn't having a hard time breathing now, who she saw would have taken her breath away instantaneously. The look on his face was indescribable. He looked at her with skepticism, weighing whether or not he should help her out. Fortunately for Elle, he had taken a Hippocratic Oath to help those in need. Coming to her side, he motioned for her to sit down, her back against a fallen tree stump. Pointing to her nose and then to his own, he told her to breathe in through her nose slowly.

"That's good, good," he told her, "exhale through your mouth."

Coaching her through this routine for what seemed like hours, Elle's breath slowly came back to her, the pain in her chest easing ever so slightly. Taking one look at her arm, the blood dripping down like red tear drops; he reached into his backpack and shredded a spare t-shirt into thin strips. Tying off her arm, he shook his head.

"Tell me something," Jack looked deep into her eyes, "was it worth it?"

Knowing exactly what he meant, she didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable. She pulled her hair into a high ponytail, the curls bouncing off her head. Taking a water bottle out of her backpack, she slowly drank the cool water, and then poured it over her arm, her blood disappearing into the muddied earth.

"Depends on your sense of _worth_, Jack." Her voice was cold and sarcastic, typical Elle.

Jack, frustrated with her answer, raised his arms into the air, looked up into the sky, and inhaled deeply.

"Why'd you do it, Elle?"

"I did it for the same reason you had when you watched over me," she looked him smugly in the eyes, "because we all _need_ what we can't _have_."

"I see you looking at me," she said, "when you don't think anyone's watching."

"Tell _me_ something, Jack," she demanded, "am I only _worth_ it if I'm taken or injured?"

Jack was taken aback by her assertiveness. She reminded him of the woman in the caves who sucker-punched him after he tortured Sawyer. He was just getting comfortable taking care of the vulnerable, caring Elle, that he forgot she could spit fire unlike any other hotheaded woman out there. She was right, he thought to himself, was I only interested in her because I could take care of her? Worse, he thought to himself, was I only interested because she was _his_? He could not face her. It was ironic how she conned him and the others, but here he was, feeling ashamed for treating her like another fix-it case on the hospital's payroll.

"I thought you needed me," he confided in her.

"When I'm with you, I'm not this robot, on a schedule," he smiled slightly, "you keep me on my toes."

"But I was being selfish," he sat down next to her, "because I actually needed you."

Elle was only fishing for answers, testing the waters with Jack. She did not expect him to open up and tell her that he needed her. _Some catch Elle_, she thought to herself. Sitting idly by, Elle didn't look Jack in the face. She couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her softened by his confession. It took a lot of guts to do what he did, but it took something else entirely to do what he did next.

Jack reached over and grasped gently at Elle's chin. Moving her head to face him, he held her there so she couldn't avert his eyes. He leant in and kissed her mouth, putting all he had in to the kiss. His lips, warm and strong, froze her. He lingered, slowly pulling his lips from her own, her chin still resting in his hand. _What did you go and do, _Elle's mind was racing. She wanted to scream and shove him away; she wanted to punch him, but her limbs were numb. Her whole body was without sensation. The only thing she felt was her own heart, erratically beating. If she looked down at her chest, she imagined she would see her heart pumping through her breastbone.

"I'm sorry, I…" Jack turned his head, resting it in his hands.

"Are you really sorry, Jack?" Elle felt more _alive_ now than she had in a long time.

"You know what I really think," she stared at him, "I think you wanted to do that for awhile now."

He couldn't believe she was going to start a fight, again. She pressed all the buttons she knew would it would take to get under his skin. If he was looking to score some sick island fantasy, he was mistaken.

"Sorry for you, Jack," she sneered, "somebody beat you to that, again."

His face was covered with a blush of embarrassment and anger, his eyes wide like that cartoon cat Felix. Thoughts ran through his mind. How is it that he wanted to kiss her again, even after she made him feel like a fool? What was it that drove him mad over Elle? The answer hit him, harder than an anvil, and he would have welcomed the anvil over it any day. _She wasn't Sarah, his ex wife. Yet, in some ways, she was the embodiment of the type of woman that he would do anything for. _Unfortunately, for him, those women usually chose someone else over him, just as Elle chose Sawyer. She didn't choose him, she may have used him, and he may have enjoyed it, but the end result was the same. _He was second._ He would always _be_ second.

"He'll hurt you," he shot back at her, "once a screw up…" he didn't get a chance to finish. Jumping up from the ground, Elle looked at him. _If looks could kill_, he thought to himself. That line fit Elle perfectly.

"He may, Jack," she cracked her neck, stretching it side to side, "but then you'll be in the position you've always wanted."

Looking at her, slightly confused, because he knew he never wanted to see her hurt, physically or emotionally, he asked her what position would that be.

"To fix me," she hissed, "to fix poor, broken, Elle."

With that, she left Jack, standing alone in the middle of God knows where, staring at her as she walked off. He had gotten to her, but she wouldn't let him see that, not now. Jack watched her as she stormed off, clenching her fists. Little did he know, she wasn't clenching her fists in anger; she was clenching that small rubber ball he had given her. The numbness she had felt earlier wasn't from shock. Slowly she had felt her hand grow weaker, but she would never admit to defeat. Kicking herself, she realized she needed Jack…_to fix her._

Chapter 15

Sawyer watched as Elle emerged from the jungle, fatigued and distant, again. Damn woman, he thought to himself, beatin' herself up over what I put her up to. Feeling like a complete ass, Sawyer watched her fill up her water bottle from a safe distance. He took in the sight of her. Her dark curls pulled high upon her head, a few tendrils escaping captivity, loosely hanging on her neck. She was glowing, the sweat illuminating a blush upon her cheeks, nature's own rouge. His eyes scanned lower, settling on her legs. She was wearing her frayed jeans, with the knees cut out. The way they fit her body, like a glove he thought, made his body ache. Her tight tank top, showed off her muscular arms, and that's when he noticed the strip of cloth tied tightly around her bicep, her blood creating a tie-dye motif. Walking briskly up to her, he grabbed her elbow, and swung her to face him. Placing a hard, passionate kiss on her mouth, their teeth knocked, and Elle bit his lip as he tried to pull back. Bringing him back in for another kiss, she let it linger.

"Hell, woman," he purred, "I could take ya right here, right now."

Laughing, her voice was breathy, purposely trying to get a rise out of him.

"We've got an audience," she winked over his shoulder.

Off in the near distance, a few people, including Claire and Sun, had gathered along the beach, and when they saw the two interact, they couldn't help but stare. Anger, frustration, and utter disbelief loomed in the air as they watched Sawyer and Elle practically tear at one another's clothes. Once Elle mentioned that they had a few sightseers, Sawyer put on an elaborate show. He leant her backward, caressing her body with one hand, finding his way up to her neck with his mouth, where he met hers with yet another empowered kiss. Elle roughly grabbed at his shirt, tearing it, the buttons landing in the sand, like bits of sea glass. Sawyer scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward their tents.

"Mi casa or your's?" he propositioned.

"Why not both?" she placed her bet on the table, raising an eyebrow, seeing if he would concede.

Sawyer whooped and hollered like a banshee in heat and planted another wet kiss on Elle's mouth. Looks like Christmas is comin' early, he teased her.

They went a few rounds, roughly and animalistic at first, but they settled in his tent, and there they passionately attended to one another's needs. Elle didn't know what had gotten into him and asked him as he buttoned up his blue jeans, sans boxers. Such a cowboy, she thought to herself. Turning to face her, he looked her up and down, and raised a single eyebrow at her. She had left her jeans in the other tent and settled for a tank top and her panties. Throwing her one of his shirts, she pulled it on over herself, and sat cross-legged on the blanket.

"Do I really need a reason?" he told her, taking a hand and gliding it from her knee all the way up to her face.

"Look at ya, darlin'."

Elle couldn't help but laugh at him. He could be such an ass and sometimes, he made her body go crazy in all the right places.

He sat next to her, taking out a cigarette and struck a match. Lighting it up he took the initial drag and passed it to her. Motioning to her arm, he asked her what happened in the jungle. He had seen her sneak off and that strip of cloth wasn't there when she left. Elle looked down at her arm, amazed that the cloth bandage had stayed on during all of that, and flexed her hand. Her fingers, slightly stiff, wiggled a bit, and she shrugged.

"Got into a bit of an argument with a tree," she stuck her tongue out at him, "didn't want to give over a mango."

Not falling for it, he pressed her. Asking her if she over exerted herself or worse, was she running to appease her guilt, he had her cornered.

"A bit of both, I guess."

"Tore some stitches, had an anxiety attack," she exhaled, making a small circle of smoke, "you know how it goes."

"And you happened to tie that off yourself," he questioned her, already knowing the answer.

"Jack." she simply stated.

A wave of hate and jealousy poured over Sawyer as he sucked on the cigarette, drawing in the essence of its nicotine. The Doc just happened to be in the same spot as Elle. Like hell, he thought to himself. As easily as it came though, the feeling subsided, when he looked into her eyes.

"You didn't tear any more stitches," he pointed to himself and then at her, "you know, when we…"

"No more to tear," she laughed. So tough and obscene about most things, seeing him so uncomfortably shy and vulnerable about their love making made her love him even more.

"Plus, if we did tear some more," she winked, "imagine Jack's face when I tell him how."

"Tell him?" his voice hit an octave higher.

"I need stitches, again," she grimaced, "and my antibiotics."

Quickly rephrasing her statement, she told him that they both needed to go pay a visit to Jack. Sawyer's been getting his bandages and meds from Jack regularly; it was Elle, who skipped a day of the antibiotics. Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out the small rubber ball. Gripping it with her left hand, she pumped it a few times, working her fingers, trying to strengthen them. Sawyer looked at her and he got a mischievous look in his eye. Knowing very well what he was thinking, his mind permanently halfway in the gutter, she chucked the ball at him and told him to grow up. Knocking her flat on her back, he grinned as he had her pinned. Not one to give in so easily, Elle passed her tongue over her lips and eyed him until he cracked.

"Tease."

"Please?" she stared at his mouth, then back up to his eyes, biting her lip. This time, he wasn't going to cave. God, he groaned, she was doing that thing with her lip again. Subconsciously, as he bit his own lip, Elle seized the moment. She raised her head to meet his and pressed her mouth upon his rough lips. Flipping him over, she planted one more kiss on him, leaving him breathless. Rolling over, side by side, they rested.

"I guess you'll be needin' your jeans," he looked over at her, "unless you wanna pay the Doc a visit in nothing but my shirt."

"I don't think he could handle any more surprises," she replied.

Elle watched him as he got up and left the tent to find her jeans. She smiled to herself as she noticed that Sawyer had two dimples in his lower back. Who would have known, that dimples could reside elsewhere besides his gorgeous face.

Chapter 16 *_Trouble Lyrics by Ray LaMontagne_*

The situation Elle put herself into wasn't the least bit comfortable. She was seated in between Jack and Sawyer, her left arm draped over a faux table as Jack stitched her arm for the umpteenth time. Sawyer was crinkling his nose as he watched Jack thread the needle in, out, and over her skin, creating a neat row of tiny lines. Sawyer remembered what it felt like to pull out the bullet from his own shoulder; the burning sensation he felt as he ripped apart his own skin. He was looking at Elle compassionately as she sat there, emotionless. He chuckled a bit when he saw the color Jack chose to stitch up his woman: turquoise.

"Couldn't find any standard black, Doc?"

Sawyer's voice startled Jack and he stabbed Elle with the needle, causing a drop of blood to bubble at the surface. Elle tugged at her arm, a reflex from being unconsciously stabbed. Mumbling incoherently under his breath, Jack wiped off her arm, and continued. The silence was getting on Sawyer's nerves and it was obvious as he starting tapping his foot and humming a bit.

_*"Trouble..."_

"No trouble," Jack mumbled, "shaky hands." Elle looked at Jack from the corner of her eye, where his met hers. She used the same lie when Kate witnessed her drop the sheets, her hand numb from the injury. Jack wasn't paying _any _attention to Sawyer, not realizing he was singing, not asking Jack if something was wrong. Sawyer belted out a few more lines. Elle and Jack, both stupefied that Sawyer was singing, stopped what they were doing, Jack dropped the needle and thread, and it hung from her flesh, yet to be cut.

"_Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble…" _he took a breath,_ "Trouble been doggin' my soul since the day I was born."_

Elle looked at Sawyer, a small smile curling her lips. She told Sawyer how fitting that was and he smirked and with that thick drawl, told her she _ain't heard nothin' yet_. _  
><em>

"_Worry..." _he lifted his eyebrows at her, twice in a row, and he had that gleam in his eyes, that she knew would only bring her, well for lack of a better word, _trouble.  
><em>

"_Worry, worry, worry, worry." _Sawyer belted out the song, making sure to put an emphasis on the last two lines. _  
><em>

"_Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone."  
><em>

"_We'll I've been..." _he reached for her hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

_"Saved by a woman."_

"Some woman," Jack grumbled, not sure if anyone had heard him. He looked up from his gauze and medical supplies and caught Sawyer's glare, coming from behind a few fallen strands of hair.

"Whad'ya say, Hoss?"

Jack, not usually quick on his feet, told him that if anyone needed saving it was him. Then he jerked a hand towards Elle and told Sawyer that if anyone could save him, it would be her.

"You two are something else, entirely."

Running a hand through his hair, Sawyer got back up and shook his head. Laughing it off as a joke, Elle was amazed that Sawyer let him off that easy. Those two, she thought to herself, were more like sparring partners than they were friends. Nevertheless, here they were, oblivious to the fact that Elle was trouble and she brought it wherever she went. She got through this encounter, just barely. Knotting off the end of the stitch, Jack cut it and wrapped Elle's arm. Handing her a small white pill, she popped it into her mouth and took a swig of water. Jack motioned for them to switch seats and he looked at Sawyer's shoulder. Cleansing it, he applied a bandage and gave Sawyer his pill. Sawyer arched his neck and swallowed the pill.

"Appreciate it, Doc." Sawyer extended his hand and when Jack dismissed it, Sawyer put it out there again.

"Bygones?"

"You want forgiveness, Sawyer," Jack stated, "you can start by giving me the meds you stole from the hatch."

Reluctantly, Sawyer agreed. He knew that the meds were better off in Jack's care than his own, but without his possessions, well, Sawyer knew he wasn't much. Elle and Sawyer started to walk out of the hatch when Sawyer stopped short. Turning to Jack, he asked him,

"Why not the guns?"

Jack walked up to him and stared him down.

"When I want the guns," his mouth stern, "I'll get the guns."

Chapter 17

Elle and Sawyer were trying to get back into the good graces of the other islanders, but it was a slow and painful process. Jack had no choice but to talk to them and tend to them. Locke, well, he never said much, so the few words and salutatory nods of the head that came their way were better than none at all. Sun found it hard not to talk to Elle, they spent most of their time with Claire and the baby, and she found it difficult to ignore her. Elle had become a habitual friend and Sun missed her being around, out of habit or not. Claire on the other hand, was like night and day. She was focused on Aaron for most of the time that when she would spot Elle running the beach, she would pick up her son and point at "Auntie Elle," forgetting the internal betrayal. However, Claire was fretful, according to Kate who stopped by their tent, asking for a favor. Claire, she said, was taking control of her life once and for all. Unsure as to what she meant, Elle asked Kate what was going on.

"Claire's going out into the jungle to find out where they took her."

"I tried to stop her, but," Kate sighed, obviously defeated, "she's hotheaded and stubborn." Looking at Elle, she pointed out that Claire had taken on a new persona.

"Kinda reminds me of you, Elle."

Taking that as a compliment, Elle offered to help. Kate seemed a bit flustered, debating whether she should take Elle up on the offer. Elle was great at tracking and she was closer to Claire than she was, but Kate didn't know how Claire would feel having her tag along.

"It might make things worse," Kate tried to be civil, "after all…"

"I know, Kate," Elle stood up and walked into her tent, "why should she trust me?"

Sawyer looked up from his book he was reading and asked Kate why she had bothered to come over to Exile Island if she wasn't there for Elle's help. Kate looked down on Sawyer and told him she needed a gun. She needed to protect Claire and felt uneasy because Rousseau had agreed to help. Hearing that the crazy French woman was going, Sawyer quickly asked if she wanted a handgun or rifle. He looked back at the tent where Elle retreated, knowing she was anxious to help. He figured arming Kate would be the best he could do to appease her.

"Since Frenchie's going with yas," he attempted, "I think you'll need all the help you can get." Sawyer pointed to the tent, furrowing his brows a bit.

"Since boys ain't allowed," he frowned, "a fourth woman may just do the trick."

Poking her head out of the tent, Elle told him that she didn't need anyone's vote of confidence. Kate took the gun from Sawyer and placed it into the back of her jeans. She started to walk away but stopped. Turning back, she called out to Elle.

"Claire's gonna need all the support she can get," she walked towards Elle, "may be your chance to make nice."

That's all Elle needed to hear and she was up and ready. She had been packing up her backpack while the two of them were chit chatting. Sliding back the top of her 9mm, she placed it in the back of her jeans, pecked Sawyer on the cheek, and looked at Kate.

"Thought you'd never ask."

Kate shook her head and laughed. Elle always had a way with words. She was grateful that she changed her mind, because Elle seemed to make a bad situation better, despite the fact that she aided and abetted Sawyer in his con. They made their way towards the edge of the beach where it became jungle. Standing, waiting, were Claire and Rousseau.

"What's she doing here, Kate?" Claire asked, a bit of resentment filled her voice.

"I couldn't let you go out there, Claire," Elle offered.

"Not after all we've been through."

Claire, her posture a bit more relaxed, uncrossed her arms, and nodded toward Elle. Walking to where Elle was standing, Claire put a kind hand on her arm.

"They did something to my baby, Elle," she looked so afraid, "he's all I've got."

Wrapping her arm around Claire, Elle told her they'd find what she was looking for, no matter the cost. Elle didn't find out what they were searching for until they started out into the jungle. They trekked deeper into the jungle until Claire found a hidden hatch door. Climbing in, they found what seemed to be a nursery room, that Claire remembered being in. Kate walked off searching the other rooms and pulled Elle aside.

"The _Others_ aren't who they pretend to be."

Curiosity got the best of Elle and she followed Kate into a locker room. Inside the lockers were tattered clothing, wigs, facial hair appliqués, and glue.

"Looks like the beard may be a fake." Kate told Elle, a piece of faux hair that resembled a moustache, remembering the bearded man who held her hostage in the jungle.

Putting the things back into the locker, Kate turned to face Elle. She told her that they should keep this to themselves for the time being. Not wanting to cause an uproar, the last thing everyone else back at the beach needed was more chaos and mystery. She didn't want to raise panic in the others. Just yet.

"When the time's right." With that, she turned and walked out of the room, finding her way back to Claire and Rousseau, Elle in tow.

"Why go to all the trouble to hide their faces?" Elle asked.

"It's not like we couldn't pick them out of a line up."

"Why go to the trouble, at all?" Kate answered.

Claire, obviously exhausting all her emotional and physical strength, looked towards Elle and Kate and told them that they had come all the way for nothing. There wasn't anything useful for her or Aaron. The "medicine" she had trekked through the jungle for was depleted. More so, it was as if it never existed in the first place. The rooms were quite barren, except for a small blue knitted booty. Claire, adoring the baby booty, caught Elle's eye and quickly put it in her pocket.

"I think I made this…" she scrunched her face a bit, her memories still blurry, "for Aaron, while they held me here."

Elle apologized that they weren't able to find what she needed, but Claire didn't seem too upset about coming up empty. She seemed a bit more stabilized, emotionally, and they headed back out the way they came in. Despite not finding the medicine for Aaron, Claire found what she was searching for all along. She found answers to her abduction and that Danielle wasn't the one who hurt her, but instead, helped save her from Ethan. They arrived back at camp to find Aaron had broken his fever and was doing just fine. Jack mentioned that it was just a simple bug, the baby needed to get used to its environment, and by getting sick, Aaron showed both Claire and Jack that he was getting acclimated to strangers and the germs they carried.

Kate and Elle parted ways and Elle thought about the conversation they had on the way back to the beach. Elle told Kate she was not being her usual self and by this Elle meant that Kate wasn't usually so outgoing and talkative. Unless she's fishing for information, Elle thought to herself. Kicking herself for being so negative, after all, Elle thought to herself, before the _long con, _they were somewhat friendly. Now, Kate took her along, in hopes that she could help Claire and make up for what she had done. Listening to Kate make small talk, Elle heard both Jack and Sawyer's names and stopped in her tracks.

"They're not _so_ different, Kate." Elle threw in her two cents. Both were stubborn, meticulous, would die for the ones they love, and put up a bigger façade than necessary when it came to how they really felt. Kate never really thought about the two of them in those aspects and realized how right Elle was. She really has gotten to know the both of them well; Kate frowned to herself, who would have known?

Kate confided in Elle, that when they first crashed here, Jack was the first person she made contact with. She felt something, a small connection, but it was bigger than that.

"He's the exact opposite of the guy I am attracted to," Kate's hands flew back and forth, as she spoke.

Elle made note of her comment and deduced that the exact opposite of Jack on this island was Sawyer. She bit her lip and Kate noticed that she was thinking. Prying her for her thoughts, Elle told her what she was thinking about. Kate blushed a bit and told Elle that she was right, Sawyer was her type.

"But a part of me," Kate sighed, "knows Jack would be everything I've ever needed."

Realizing she said too much, she pointed to a footprint dried as if the island was preserving it, motioning to Elle that it could have belonged to Ethan from when he had kidnapped Claire. Not falling for the quick change of subject, Elle pushed the idea of Jack onto Kate.

"He's a great guy, Kate," Elle chuckled, "if you enjoy being taken care of."

"I guess I've been taking care of myself for so long," Kate confessed, "it's a nice change of pace."

They both laid out the pros and cons of their pending relationships with Jack and Sawyer and mostly the pros outweighed the cons. Unbeknownst to Kate, Elle had one more con to add to her list for Jack. Kate confessed that after Sawyer and the others had come back, she was out in the woods wandering, when she ran into Jack and kissed him. She explained that she was _having a moment_, which she didn't need to explain to Elle, for she had a few _moments_ of her own on that island. Nevertheless, she enjoyed it, the kiss. Elle wanted to tell Kate that Jack had recently kissed her, but the way Kate talked about Jack, she couldn't ruin that. She pocketed that piece of information, possibly for a rainy day. You never know when I would have to use it, Elle silently smiled to herself.

"Sawyer and you deserve one another," Kate told Elle, her voice bitter, her words coated slightly with sincerity.

Elle glared at Kate. She wanted to defend their relationship; she wanted to slap Kate for having the gall to demean everything that held meaning for her. Instead, Elle took her eyes off Kate and looked off into the ocean.

"People don't _deserve_ one another, Kate."

"They just end up on your doorstep and it's your choice whether or not you take them in."

Elle just compared a relationship to taking in a stray. Ironically, that was just what Kate and Elle were; strays, unloved, beaten, left behind, or on the run. Even more so, Jack was the one who took them all in, under his wing, as leader, caretaker, and lover. As Elle thought this over in her head, she realized that Sawyer was a stray too. How was it that each one of them was both the stray and the caretaker? How many roles did they play in one another's lives?

Chapter 18

Whispers, not of the _Other _kind, were spreading like wildfire across the beach. They had one of _them_ locked away in the hatch for a few days and he wasn't talking. Jack tried, Locke attempted, even Ana-Lucia tried to get the stranger to talk. He was cryptic and slightly deranged, but then again, that was the man's role to play. The _Others_ had infiltrated their camp and was living amongst them as a captive. Sawyer and Elle had gotten into a fight over something trivial and she watched him storm off into the jungle. She wanted a chance to talk to the _Other_. Sawyer knew what her _talking_ consisted of and if she had her way, as she did with Ethan, she may prove treacherous.

"Ain't gonna let it happen, sweetheart." His eyes were patronizing, his tone was sarcastic.

"I wasn't asking for permission, _sweetheart,_" she was quick on her feet to throw the sarcasm right back in his face.

"You ain't gonna run off and _talk_ to that man," Sawyer put his foot down, "we both know that ain't what you wanna do." "Not without me there to protect ya."

"I don't need your protection, Sawyer," she motioned to her arm, "shit happens, and I handle it just fine without you."

She used the Jack card to push his buttons and by the look on his face, she had hit him where it hurt. Stalking away, he shouted back at her.

"Go on, git, woman," he smirked, "run off to papa Jack."

_They_ wanted this Henry character alive, they wanted him to trade for Michael and Walt, and they wanted answers. According to Jack, it seemed all they were getting were empty answers. Sayid believed him to be an _Other_ and he got to do what Elle wanted: torture him. She had her reasons, mainly because of Claire, but she had some past ghosts that she needed to free and seemingly so, beating the life out of someone would have helped. She felt guilty for conning the others, her family she had crashed into, so to speak and needed to make amends.

Elle decided to do just that. She started towards the hatch, making sure no one was following her. More so, she wanted to make sure Sawyer wasn't there to stop her. She understood that he felt the need to protect her, but the idea that this man could possibly betray them, or worse, Elle shuttered at the thought. I am a big girl, she pumped herself up, he'll just have to get over it. She slowly trudged through the jungle, taking in the flowers and rare plants. She took the scenery on the island for granted most days and thanks to Sun, she assisted her with the garden, and acquired a taste for nature. She was used to concrete gardens and patches of grass where she grew up. Trees, she climbed, to hide from the local bullies, who she could outrun, now she climbed to scour for nourishment and she loved it.

Walking upon a mango grove she noticed some lying on the earthy floor, freshly picked. Nearing the fruit, she noticed something interesting. Two pair of footprints, facing one another, as if they were in a stand off, departed in separate directions. From what she gathered, the heavier footing belonged to Sawyer and she smiled to herself, for being able to pick out his treads. The other one, lighter and smaller, a boot print, belonged to a female and judging by the treading, they were not hers. Elle's gut warned her, but she brushed that off. Noises came from a half a mile down the beaten path and she would have bet her life that she had stumbled upon the burrow of a boar and its little runts.

Nearing the sounds, she realized that they were human, and flustered she realized she had fallen upon two people having sex in the jungle. She was embarrassed but intrigued; the curiosity of being human made her peer around the large girth of a mango tree's trunk. What she saw made her sick to her stomach. Blinking her eyes, trying to erase the very sight out of her mind, she opened them again and exhaled the breath that caught in her throat. His hair, golden and muddied, hung over his eyes as he zipped his jeans. Her tan back, sweaty and scratched, faced Elle as she threw on her black tank top. Turning to face him, her accent, though slight, made the experience even more real for Elle.

"You tell anyone about this," Ana-Lucia smirked, "they'll find you dead."

Elle could not fathom why she was still standing there, watching Ana walk back towards the beach. She turned her head to look at Sawyer, every part of her core, wishing that it was someone else, Scott maybe, or Steve, whichever one was still alive. Glaring at him from behind the tree, she watched as he buttoned up his shirt, skipping a few buttons, obviously ripped off in the heat of the moment. Elle's stomach flipped and she felt the burning acid rise into her throat. Unable to keep it down, she retched into the brush. Bringing her t-shirt up to her mouth, she wiped the vomit from her lips and roughly wiped her hands down the legs of her jeans. Thinking back on a conversation she had with Jack about Kate and her curiosity, her own words came to bite her in the ass. _Curiosity killed the cat._

Her curiosity got the best of her. The Elle that the islanders had come to love and some came to hate, others desired, died that day. The softened, unguarded, willing to love someone unconditionally, woman she had become due to finding a second chance at life and love, died. The bitter, hardened, masochistic woman she once was, when she was conning men, sleeping with men with no strings attached, using any means necessary to collect money for the bookie, rose from the fiery ashes, reborn. She wanted to hurt Sawyer, to break him into tiny pieces, to make him feel what her now nonexistent heart felt at the moment she laid eyes on him and Ana. Instead, she quietly made her way towards the hatch. Not looking back once, she had other things on her mind. Amongst them were revenge, however a part of her thought back to the other night where she was making love to Sawyer, how all of that, was _sullied_ by that bitch, Ana-Lucia.

Entering the hatch, Elle stumbled upon chaos. Michael was back, Jack tending to his dehydration. Kate watched Elle enter, noticed her swagger, her stature seemed taller, her head held higher. Her face, usually a bit soft around the edges, held nothing but stone, icy, eyes. Ana was there and couldn't bring herself to look Elle in the face, causing something to rouse Kate's interest. Creasing her brow, she pulled on Elle's elbow and took her aside.

"What's gotten into you?" Kate asked her, her voice a whisper, "If looks could kill…"

"Nothing's gotten into me," Elle responded, glaring at Ana. "It's who's gotten into her…"

Elle made a lunge towards Ana. Kate, attempted to hold back Elle, but she was having a hard time. Ana took a few steps back, out of the reach of Elle's grasp. Pointing a finger at Elle, she insulted her. Not the smartest thing to do, Elle told her.

"Control yourself, _bitch_," Ana snarled.

"Who'd you call a bitch," Elle growled, "_whore!"_

Running into the room, Jack rushed over to Elle, aiding Kate in holding her back. Ana could handle herself, which worried Jack, but if they let Elle go, they wouldn't be able to control the both of them. Jack shouted to Ana to go into the next room and watch Michael while they escorted Elle to the living area. Elle was fighting them off and Jack threw her on the couch.

"Sit down!" he ordered, "Now."

"Let me back at her," she smirked, "then you can _fix her_."

"Listen," Jack looked down on Elle, his voice low and composed, "I don't know what the hell that was all about, but you gotta calm down."

"Oh, I could tell you, but now that wouldn't be fun," Elle forcefully pushed herself up from the couch, "just give me ten minutes with her!"

Elle faltered a bit, the adrenaline didn't stop her left hand from giving out on her as she pushed herself up. Falling a bit hard back on the couch, she cursed under her breath. I don't need my left hand for what I wanna do to her, she thought to herself. Sensing that Elle was lost in her thoughts, Jack sat down next to her and like usual, added to the fire.

"Does Sawyer know where you are?"

Elle laughed aloud, her head falling back onto the couch; she raised her hands to her face. Wiping away tears, from laughing, she looked at Jack, her eyes dark and dangerous.

"He's a bit indisposed."

Hearing the connotation in her words, Jack looked at Kate for a bit of help. Kate shrugged as if saying _What can I do_ and took a seat next to Elle. She wasn't one hundred percent positive that she knew what was causing Elle to flip out, but she was guessing that Elle caught the two in some unfortunate predicament. Kate, unsure of how she should handle the situation did the only thing she could think of.

"Ten minutes?" She nudged Elle. "I thought you'd need less."

Elle's face hardly softened and Kate tried again. Telling Jack that maybe he should leave them to _talk girl things_, Elle looked at Kate and told her that she didn't mind if Jack stayed. After all, Jack was right, once again. She told them what she had seen in the jungle. The whole time she spoke, she was monotone, no emotion, no inflexion in her tone. She was hollow. She felt hollow. She needed something to fill the void and she needed to fill that with Ana's screams. She didn't tell them that, she wanted to, but they already deemed her a high risk. They wouldn't want blood on their hands. Jack was furious. Hearing that Sawyer went behind Elle's back and did her wrong, just added to the tension of going after the _Others_. A part of him ached because Ana was at the core of it. Jack stood up and told Elle he would take care of Sawyer. He needed to get the guns back anyway. Seeing Jack get so heated made Elle smile to herself. It was working out just the way she had hoped. Two can play your game, James.

Chapter 19

They left Michael in the hatch with Ana who volunteered to stay back. They headed to the beach to get the guns from Sawyer. Elle really had no choice in going along with them, they didn't want to risk the damage a fight between Ana and Elle would cause. She was anticipating the look on Sawyer's face when Jack, of all people, staked a claim on the guns. Sawyer should have seen it coming but he was sitting along side his tent reading a manuscript, enthralled by its contents, that he didn't hear them arrive. Once Jack asked for the guns, Sawyer teased him along, using his sarcasm and charm to delay the inevitable. Jack growing impatient, took a handgun from the back of his jeans, and held it to Sawyer's face.

"Give us the guns, Sawyer."

He looked to Elle for support but only found anger and enjoyment in her eyes. Dogging her glare, he shuffled to his feet and went to pull out his gun from his jeans, but to his shock, came up empty handed.

"_Sonuvabitch_!" he held his hands palm side up. "That bitch took my gun."

Hearing those words, Jack looked toward Elle who was making her way to the front. Sawyer, the moron that he was, practically confessed that he was with Ana. It took balls to do that, in front of Elle, nonetheless. Kate gasped slightly, Sawyer looked up, and his whole demeanor changed. His cheeks sunk with regret, his eyes ashamed and apologetic. Glancing at Elle, he went to speak, but Jack cut him off.

"I don't think now's the time, Sawyer."

"Thanks, Dr. Phil," Sawyer quipped, as he reached for Elle, "but this is something _we_ need to discuss."

Elle looked Sawyer dead in the face and as she batted his hand away with her left hand, she brought her right fist up and hit him square in the jaw. Kate swore she saw spit fly out of his mouth.

"_We_," putting emphasis on the word, "have absolutely nothing to talk about."

Sawyer's hand instinctively went up to his face, wiping away the drivel and blood from his upper lip. His posture was defensive and both Locke and Jack noticed his form. Locke stepped in between Sawyer and Elle, while Kate stood firmly by Elle's side. Jack still had the gun aimed at Sawyer, his patience running thin. Sawyer's natural instinct was to hit her back, but he recoiled his fist, ashamed he even thought about retaliating. They were passionate, whether they were fighting or making love, but this time, he knew he had wronged her. A forceful, passionate roll in the sack wasn't going to appease either of them. He crossed the line over a stupid fight because he didn't know how to express his concern for her without sounding like a patronizing fool. Elle stood there, almost willing Sawyer to come at her. Massaging her knuckles, Elle retreated into the jungle, towards the hatch. Elle was out of sight, when Locke brought something to their attention. Like a little boy, afraid of the principal, his voice was timid as he addressed Jack.

"Uhh, Jack," he furrowed his brow, "there's something you should know about Ana-Lucia."

Locke told Jack that Ana had a small encounter with Henry in the hatch and if she had the gun from Sawyer, there was only one reason why she graciously volunteered to stay back with Michael. She was going to do something drastic. As the information sunk in, they all looked at one another and sprinted back towards the hatch. Ana wasn't stable, especially after her fight with Elle, and if she used Sawyer to get a gun, she had something planned. They needed to get to her before it was too late. Unfortunately, for them, when they arrived at the hatch, they found Ana-Lucia shot to death on the couch, Michael shot in the arm, Henry had escaped, and poor Libby, barely breathing from gun shots to the abdomen. They found Elle huddled over Libby, her hands bloodied from applying pressure to her stomach. Kate found Ana and nearly vomited at the sight. Ana's eyes, lifeless and open, stared off as if she were daydreaming.

"I…don't…I…can't…," Elle was stammering, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Somebody help me!" Elle called out, blood from Libby's wounds pooling about her body.

Sawyer made his way over to feel for a pulse when out of nowhere, Libby coughed up so much blood, and it sprayed him in the face. Calling out for Jack, Sawyer replaced Elle's hands with his own, and pushed her aside. He told her she did all she could do and now it was Jack's turn to handle the rest. For a moment, Elle forgot she was so angry with him. For a moment, none of it mattered. They exchanged such a loving look, yet it was overshadowed by the death and suffering that loomed over their heads. Ana was dead and she was angry. Angry that she hadn't had the chance to _talk_ to her, infuriated that Ana used Sawyer and by doing so ruined their relationship. A small part of Elle was relieved that Ana did use Sawyer, that maybe just maybe, he hadn't felt anything for her. That too was overshadowed by the fact that he _had slept with Ana_, whether he knew he was being used or not, and he knowingly betrayed her. _Whether he thought he'd get caught or not._

Elle made her way, blindly following the sounds of weeping and found Kate curled up on the couch, staring off out the window. She went to reach for her, to console her, but when she looked down at her hands, the dark maroon of Libby's blood had started to dry and she felt her insides twist and tumble, sending whatever was left in her stomach up into her throat. Shoving her face into the wastebasket, Elle forced the bile up, gagging on the acid and her tears. She never would get used to the feel of another person's blood on her hands. As she wiped her mouth off, realizing it was the second time that day she had thrown up, she saw Jack talking to Sawyer. She had seen that look on Sawyer's face before, that saddened, hopeless, look of fear, and knew he was vulnerable. He walked up to her on his way out and squatted to face her. He took her face into his hands and whispered.

"I never meant for you to get hurt," he swallowed what seemed to be a lump in his throat.

"I'm no good, darlin'," he sighed, "no matter how _good_ you make me feel, I'm gonna screw that up one way or another."

Elle shook her head, trying to negate the impossible, trying to stop time from moving on from that moment. He was ending things, pushing her away, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Prying her arms off, he kissed her forehead, wiped away an isolated tear from her cheek and told her he had to make things right. Jack needed the heroin from his stash; there was no saving Libby. She was in so much pain, no drugs he had, would help her die peacefully.

"Sawyer," she whispered, her voice harsh from the acidity in her throat, "I never wanted perfection."

"A girl like me doesn't get perfection," her lips turned down, "but I was content with what I had."

She reached for his face, tracing a finger along his bruised cheek, down to his split lip, and rested her hand on his chest. Taking one of his hands and placing it atop her breast, she tapped her fingers on his chest.

"You feel that," she asked him, "we're in sync, Sawyer," a small smile curled her lips.

"We were made for one another, whether you believe it or not."

Pushing him away from her, she stood and walked to the sink. Turning on the faucet, the water began to steam; she lathered her hands and rinsed Libby's blood off. Watching it swirl down the drain, she looked over at Sawyer, still squatting on the floor.

"We come from a long line of screw ups, self made or not," she professed.

"So if you want to walk away from me, from us…," she threw up her hands, as if she had already given up.

"Walk."

Sawyer was speechless. Son of a bitch, he thought to himself, where does she come from. I slept around behind her back and here she is not willing to give up on me. How the hell am I gonna make things right? A small voice inside his head seemed to say, _you stay, James, you be a man; a goddamn good one. _The one thing he knew how to be was a man, even if he had to _act the part,_ until he got it right. _She'll help you along the way_, the voice told him. Why, he thought to himself, after all I've done. _Because she loves you, every damaged, angry, lonely part of you. _He stood up, walked slowly over to her, and shut the water off. Elle had been scrubbing at her hands, long after she got all the blood off. Her hands, bright red, from the scalding water, grasped onto the edge of the sink.

"I ain't a fan of walkin' away," his raspy drawl slinked around his words, "but I sure as hell am a fan of yours."

She had wanted him to hurt so much, but she kicked herself for thinking that at this grave time. The deaths of two of their own, made Elle think twice about her motives. She was willing, hell, she was able, but it was going to take all the strength they had combined, for her not to falter. He squeezed her hand and nodded that he had to go and as she watched him walk away, she thought to herself how much she hated just that. So many times, he had walked away from her and he had always come back. Just how lucky can one person be, she pondered. Maybe next time I won't be so lucky, she sadly thought to herself. She took a seat next to Kate who was watching them during their intimate moment, her tears slowly and quietly streaming down her face.

"So much death," she whispered, "I don't know if I can take another."

Elle silenced Kate with warm words of _consolation_ and allowed her to cry on her shoulder. Kate gave in, sobbing tears she hadn't cried since they crashed. She hadn't cried this hard when her own mother screamed for help as she looked at Kate as if she was a monster. She hadn't cried this hard even when her childhood friend Tom was killed, aiding her to safety. Kate refused to cry, because like Elle, she saw it as a weakness. After all that they had gone through on the island, Kate no longer could pretend to be so strong. She was only human after all.

Chapter 20

Elle and Kate took two makeshift shovels and went to work digging Ana and Libby's graves. Hurley took his time, slowly scooping up the sand, throwing it over his shoulder, his body heavy with grief. Elle rested a hand on his shoulder and told him to take a break.

"Hurley, I've got this," she pursed her lips to form a concerned smile, "this isn't something you should have to do."

"You're wrong, Elle," he replied, "this is definitely something I have to do."

Elle was a bit stunned by his passion, not a single _dude_ or stuttering of _umm_ graced his sentence. Hurley was hating every moment of this and she knew it. Yet he didn't let it show. He meticulously dug the grave shallower with every heave of the shovel, creating dunes behind him and to the side. Elle turned to Kate and they shared a sympathetic nod and went back to work. Pulling her hair into a loose ponytail, Elle ripped off part of her t-shirt and wrapped it around the brim of her forehead, tying it at the nape of her neck. When you need it to rain, she thought to herself, you get a sun hotter than hell. Life's little ironies. Kate looked up from the empty grave they were standing in and wiped the back of her hand across her brow.

"I think they're deep enough," she pointed to the graves, "Hurley you can stop now."

He didn't acknowledge Kate and kept on digging, sooner rather than later he wasn't going to be able to get himself out of the grave. Calling his name over and over, they both snapped his attention back to the present and he looked at them as if they had just appeared out of thin air.

"Uhh, yeah," he mumbled, "right. Deep enough."

Extending their arms down to Hurley, Kate and Elle pulled him to the surface and they brushed themselves off. Walking towards them was Michael, an odd look upon his face. He walked up to them and asked them if they knew what the plan was. Kate looked at Elle who shook her head and turned back to Michael.

"No," Kate looked confused, "what plan, Michael?"

"Tomorrow," he commenced his speech, his words a bit fast and breathy, "we're going to get my son back," he pointed to the three of them, "us, Jack and Sawyer."

"We're going back to their camp," his eyes were big and bloodshot, "we're doing this for them," he pointed to the graves, "we're doing this for us."

"No way, dude," Hurley stabbed the sand with his shovel, "I'm sorry about Walt, I really am, but count me out."

"You're sorry!" Michael shouted at the top of his lungs, "You're sorry?"

"Look what _they _did man!" Once again, he pointed to the graves.

"Do it for Libby!"

"Michael!" Kate shouted.

"Leave it alone, Michael!" Elle got in his face.

Whispering so Hurley couldn't hear her, she poked Michael's injured arm, just a bit to get his attention and make sure he knew she was serious.

"Playing the Libby card," she poked him, "that's low, even for you."

Stepping back, Michael looked at Elle then back at Hurley. He apologized for being so forceful. The whole time, Elle was watching Michael's facial expressions, his posture, listening to the connotation is his words. Something was off; she could see it in his eyes. He was hiding something, treacherous, and he was taking them along for the ride. As Elle watched Hurley trudge back to the beach, she turned to Kate.

"Looks like we're going on a hike tomorrow," she raised her brows in excitement.

"A shame it took two more funerals for us to do something about _Them_."

Kate agreed and together they walked back to the beach and found Jack, Sawyer and Sayid huddled, deep in conversation. Kate made a joke about how she'd take a rain check on that tea party and told her she'd see her at the funeral. She needed to go for a swim to cool off. Elle said goodbye and headed over to the men. She watched as Sawyer handed Sayid a pistol and welcomed him along. She saw the concern in Jack's face as he told Sayid he wasn't going. Elle thought she'd add in her own two cents.

"Why's Michael so adamant about just having a select few to go tomorrow?"

"It's Michael's plan," Jack offered, "he's leading us there, he believes we'll have the advantage of surprise."

"Something is not right about it," she looked toward Sayid, "he's hiding something."

"Believe me," she cowered a bit, guilt rested in her eyes, "I would know."

"You and me both, darlin'," Sawyer noticed that look in her eyes and felt he needed to be empathetic. He squeezed her hand and told Jack that he'd go and ready the guns back at the hatch. Elle watched him as he swaggered back through the jungle. Waiting until he was out of earshot, she turned back to the conversation. She heard Sayid second her opinion.

"I agree," Sayid nodded towards Elle, "Michael believes a lot of things, who should go, who _They_ are," he lowered his voice, "but _I believe _he is in fact lying."

"Why would he lie to us?" Jack was astounded. He wants to get his son back, Jack professed, and we owe that to him.

Sayid educated Jack in reading a person's body language and facial expressions. Michael's did not add up. Listening to Sayid's interpretation, Jack agreed. Sayid had training; he could pick a liar out of a crowd just by asking one simple question.

"So what do you suggest we do?"

"Let him lead you, let him think he's in control," Sayid smiled, "I will come up with the rest."

Sayid pulled Jack aside and left Elle standing there, shunned from the rest of the discussion. She felt like an outsider at that moment, until Jack turned to face her. She heard Sayid ask Jack if he was sure about including her and Jack confirmed. Elle appreciated Jack's support, but she could stand her own ground.

"Listen, Sayid," her voice was strong and steady, "I know I've disappointed a few of you with my behaviors as of late," she looked him square in the eye, "but how I see it, you both have done things you are ashamed of," she mentioned the torture of Sawyer.

"And no one thinks twice about your abilities to lead," she paused, "or follow."

"So I'm offering my services," her smile was smug, "free of charge, free of second guesses."

"She can keep a secret," Jack faintly smiled, "especially if there's a risk someone may get hurt."

Elle felt her cheeks blush; she was guilty of keeping their kiss a secret. She was guilty for harboring other secrets and she knew how to keep her mouth shut. Once they figured out a plan, Jack asked her if she'd be willing to watch his back, along with the others, when they set out with Michael. He didn't know what Michael's plan was, but if he was compromised, then Jack needed backup. Together, Elle and Jack could contain Michael if they had no other choice. He needed Elle to cushion the possible blow out that could ensue if the others found out Jack was keeping Michael's betrayal a secret. Sayid spoke.

"I made my amends for what I did to Sawyer," his voice was sincere, "and to you, now, I apologize."

"You are strong-willed, passionate, and a bit dangerous," he smiled, "of that I am sure."

"I trust Jack's judgment." With that, he walked off down the beach.

"Question of the hour is," Elle cocked her head to the side, "do you trust your decision, Jack?"

"I meant what I said, Elle," Jack shifted his weight onto his left leg.

"We have a funeral to get to."

Reluctantly walking to the burial site, Jack took Elle's hand for a moment and squeezed it. Currents ran through her body, remembering their kiss in the jungle. Shaking her head, not saying a word, she squeezed his hand back, but gently pulled it away.

"Jack…," she found herself speechless.

"I know…," he sighed, "I know…" She watched as he made his way to the front of the crowd and began the eulogy.

Elle once again felt out of place. Not hours ago did she wish horrible things would befall Ana-Lucia, and now, they were about to bury the woman along with Libby. Elle found the way they died to be ironic and cruel. Hurley had told her that he had planned a picnic for Libby but was so nervous that he had forgotten the blankets. Libby offered to go back to the hatch to retrieve some. She was an innocent bystander, possibly embarking on an island trip down lover's lane, shot to death by one of _Them. _Ana, had pilfered a gun from Sawyer during a meaningless, yet disturbing romp in the jungle because she wanted to kill Henry. Instead, she was shot in cold blood, her life wiped from existence.

She felt a warm hand on the small of her back and turned to see that Sawyer had joined them at the funeral service. She hardly heard what Jack and Hurley had said, she was lost in her own morbid thoughts. She reached for Sawyer's hand, ignoring the fact that her own was a bit numb, and allowed him to _console_ her. She watched as the others threw handfuls of dirt and flowers into the graves and upon her turn to go, she realized she didn't have anything to offer. Sawyer lifted two flowers to her and she gratefully took them. Sawyer threw in two handfuls of dirt, while Elle concluded the services with two final flowers, gently laid upon their bodies.

They were about to walk away when she heard Sun yelling. Looking out to sea, there was a sailboat, coasting along the waves. They ran to the edge and Sawyer and Sayid were practically stripping down to their pants. Jack joined the two men and together they swam towards the boat. Jin walked up to Elle, Sun in tow. Charlie, Claire, and Aaron too were slowly making their way to the edge of the beach. Their small huddle grew larger as more and more islanders crept towards the surf. A hand raised to his brow, Charlie wondered aloud.

"Are we rescued?"

Chapter 21

"Desmond?" Elle was incredulous. Her wound twinged ever so slightly, as if her body was reliving the night she was shot over his computer.

"The bastard had a boat?"

Sawyer chuckled, _she's too much_, he thought to himself. Taking out some cheap liquor from his cache, he took a swig from the bottle. As he tipped the bottle towards Elle and offered her some, he shrugged.

"Looks like it."

Elle waved her hand towards herself, accepting his offer, and took a large sip from the bottle. The liquor simultaneously burned her throat and sent chills down her spine. All at once, her stomach turned, the acid ruminated in her throat as she burped. Laughing, she excused herself. Sawyer pretended to be disgusted, bringing a hand to his mouth.

"Such a lady," she giggled, "I know."

Licking her lips, she stopped and bit on her bottom one for a moment. Sawyer noticed that she was lost in thought and couldn't help but think how beautiful she was. He made a move towards her and wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her into him.

"The more you bite that lip of yours," his grin was mischievous, "the more I wanna kiss it."

He did just that. Elle had no time to think or comment. Sawyer pressed his mouth against her lips so fervently that she gasped for air. As their lips were locked upon one another's, the flap of their tent was raised and there stood Jack, uncomfortable as usual. Jack watched their intimate moment and multiple reactors vibrated through his body including envy, embarrassment, and some resentment. Clearing his throat while he cleared his mind of trivial yet consequential thoughts brought their attention to their audience.

"Sorry to interrupt," Jack pointed a finger at Elle, "can I borrow you for a minute?"

"Hell, Doc," Sawyer sneered, "you sure have bad timing."

"Tell me about it," Jack countered. Elle could feel the hidden meaning behind his words and her stomach flipped. Her hand quickly covered her mouth and she swallowed back a bit of bile. Seeing the color drain from her cheeks, Sawyer became concerned. Asking her if she really thought she should be going on the hike tomorrow, Elle was quick to reply with a full-hearted yes.

"Well at least have the Doc here check you out," he gave her a wink, "make sure ain't nothin' holdin' back Artemis."

"Fine," she _conceded_, "if it'll make you boys feel better."

"It will." They both answered at the same time. Sawyer gave Jack a slightly crooked smile and cocked his head.

"Looks like I ain't the only one worry'n."

"I'll check her out, man," Jack voiced.

"Sure you will," Sawyer mumbled under his breath.

Elle rolled her eyes at their lame attempts to show any concern, so what if she wasn't feeling up to par, she's been witness to a few things that would make anyone's stomach turn. Walking out of the tent, Jack stepped in stride with her until they were out of Sawyer's sight. Turning towards Jack, Elle raised a hand in defense.

"Ok, enough bullsh*tting around," she laughed, "I know we're here about tomorrow."

"We were," Jack looked concerned, "but Sawyer's right, something's wrong."

"And I'm going to find out what that is."

Flabbergasted that Jack just said Sawyer was right, Elle stood there with her mouth open. You've got to be kidding me, she exclaimed, as Jack gently pushed her towards his medical tent. It was for her own good, he told her, and for everyone else's piece of mind. They didn't need Elle slowing them down, be it her hand or something else. Sitting her down, Jack began her checkup. He felt for a pulse and clocked 104 beats per minute, a bit erratic, but strong. Asking if that was bad, Jack told her no, it shows a strenuous toll on the heart, especially after doing something physical, as in walking or running. She wasn't running a fever; her forehead was cool to the touch. Jack began to ask her questions to determine what was making her so ill lately. Was she eating enough? _As much as I can get my hands on_, Elle told him. What was she eating? _Plenty of fruit, fish freshly caught by Jin, instant mashed potatoes…_her list went on. Jack ascertained it wasn't the food intake. How often have you thrown up in the last 24 hours? _Yesterday morning, this morning, once in the jungle, and just now…almost. _What about last week? Elle was growing cautious, wary that something was wrong with her. Thinking back over the past week, she counted three times she had vomited, twice in the morning. She shrugged it off thinking it was the food.

"Stop me if I'm overstepping a boundary," he began, "but I'm going to say that you are sexually active, with, er, Sawyer." She gave him a look.

"Stating the obvious," she quipped.

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

Elle wasn't one to blush easily, but when the question came from a man who recently kissed her in the jungle, her cheeks were evident that she was a bit uncomfortable. Thinking back, Elle at first couldn't even remember the last time she fought off abdominal cramps and lower back pain. Then it hit her, the last time was a few days before she got on Flight 815, after her run in with her scummy ex-boyfriend. Her cycle was thrown off after her miscarriage. Jack gave her a small smile and started to chuckle. Shaking his head, he told her he should have noticed it sooner.

"What are you saying, Jack?"

"I'm saying," he raised an eyebrow, "looks like Aaron may have himself a playmate."

Elle sat there, her heart sunk deep into her chest, skipping a beat, her breath caught in her lungs. She placed a soft hand onto her flat stomach, biting her lip, as a sole tear fell down her cheek. No wonder I've been so emotional lately, she whispered. Jack reached over, wiping the tear from her cheek. He congratulated her, a smile so wide, almost fake, graced his face. Hormones, he laughed. With her lips taut, her eyes, focused on Jack's face, were large and frightened. They pleaded with him. Her words were haunting.

"Please," she whispered, "don't tell Sawyer."

"Elle…"

"No, Jack," she stood up, "I'll do it when the time's right."

"The time…" she shook her head slowly; her eyes looked out toward the blackened ocean, "isn't right."

Jack offered to walk her back to her tent, but she graciously denied it. Elle told him she needed to take a walk, to mull things over in her head. He attempted to ask her what she thought of the news, but when he tried to open his mouth, he couldn't find the words. Elle's face was stoic, a blank canvas, and Jack waited for some hint of emotion to show itself, but nothing came. He wouldn't let her leave without checking her hand.

An alibi, he told her, sensing she wasn't going to tell Sawyer the news, it'd be something to fall back on when Sawyer asked her how the check up went. He had her lift a rock and hold it out in front of her. Her grip was fierce; her arm barely wavered from the weight. Judging by her grasp, he knew she had been working on her exercises and they proved successful. Her wound was healed nicely; thin turquoise stitches, permanently tattooing the memory of her injury into her arm. While he examined her, he told her Sayid's plan. Sayid would take the sailboat and circle the island, black smoke signaling their safe arrival. If trouble should arise, he'd be close enough for them to make a getaway.

"Maybe you shouldn't go tomorrow," Jack tried to convince her, but Elle wouldn't have it.

"I'm going, Jack," her tone cut through the tension that lingered in the air, "pregnant or not."

Jack watched her walk away, unsure as to why she would risk her life and the life of her child. I don't think I'll ever understand that woman, he thought to himself. With a clean bill of health and the added surprise of pending motherhood, Elle walked down to the water's edge and kicked off her flip-flops. Stripping down to her undergarments, she tossed them aside and waded into the ocean. The cool water rushed over her as she dove head first into a small ripple. Holding her breath, she treaded the bottom until she could no longer fight the need to breathe. Pushing through the water, she inhaled deeply, the water trickled off her skin. Walking slowly back to the beach, she pulled on her jeans, picked up her shirt, and slipped back into her flip-flops. The moon shone brightly that night, brighter than her eyes, brighter than her future. And she knew it. What kind of mother could she possibly be? Choking back the lump in her throat, she gasped when the mere thought of her body rejecting the life inside of her, entered her mind. Would it be different now? The choices she'll make, will they determine the life of the child? Washing away the fear of the unknown from her face, she plastered a smile so fake, she was sure a con artist like Sawyer could see right through it, and entered her tent. Looking up at her, he asked her how it went.

"Island bug," she shrugged, "and the hand's good as new."

Contrary to what she thought, Sawyer believed every word of it.

Chapter 22

Elle hardly slept that night, vivid yet frightening dreams kept her from sleeping soundly. The faces of the people in her dreams were blank; at times, they looked like renditions of _The Scream_. A small child ran up and down the beach and she was chasing it, not knowing if it was a boy or girl, not knowing if it was hers. She could never catch the child; the closer she got to it, the further it seemed. There were men and women in the background of her dream, quite possibly Sawyer, but even his face was missing. Swirls of color, crimson, saffron, and cerulean, covered their faces, their sullen and sunken cheeks, their eyes, black holes, sucked the life out of her. She finally pulled herself out of the abstract dreams and prepared herself for their hike through the jungle. Not knowing what they may encounter, she braced herself for the inevitable; she hardened herself against the unpredictable.

Watching her get dressed, Sawyer couldn't help but feel something was wrong. She's tough, he thought to himself, but I've never seen her like this before. She was putting on such a brave front that it scared him. She had that affect on him. When they first met, no woman had such a way with him, and that frightened him. Now…now she was hiding something and not knowing what it was, scared the hell out of him.

"Couldn't sleep last night?" he asked her, motioning to his hair, signaling that hers was a mess from all the tossing and turning.

"Couldn't get comfortable," she answered, partially telling the truth. Running her fingers through her hair, she detangled her curls as best as she could and pulled them up into a loose bun. She enjoyed sleeping on her stomach, with an arm across his chest, but after hearing she may be pregnant, she didn't want to squash it, as insane as that sounded. She wasn't going to let anything happen to this one, she was going to keep it safe, but she wasn't going to stop living her life either. She turned to face Sawyer and when her eyes met his, she knew she had faltered for a moment, giving away her secret. She tried to brush it off, but his gaze held hers and she had to think of something.

"What is it, James?" The way she said his name, distracted him, his eyes, fell to the ground, by the time he looked back up at her, the moment had slipped by.

"Bad feelin' is all." he swung his backpack over his shoulder.

"You 'bout ready?"

Falling into step with him, she too swung her backpack onto her shoulder, but before they stepped foot out of the tent, she kissed him softly on the mouth. It was tender, not forceful, it said she loved him…it said she was genuine.

"Whatever happens…," she confided in him, "we're in this together."

"And when I tell you to," her eyes became dark and serious, "follow my lead."

"What the hell are you talkin' 'bout?" he almost snarled, his voice raspy and deep.

"Trust me."

"Darlin', that's what worries me…," he furrowed his brow, "I do trust you."

Hating that she had to keep him in the dark about their upcoming adventure, she mentally kicked herself. If we do get out of this unscathed, I will tell him that I'm carrying his child. If we don't come into harm's way, that's the first thing I'll do. The knot in her stomach, wound tighter, as she knew she wouldn't be telling him anytime soon. Together they walked off to meet the rest of them. Jack and Kate had already gathered around a small fire, leftover from the cool night, sharing granola bars. Hurley was standing off to the side, sadness evident in the creases of his brow. The only one, who seemed sure of it all, was Michael. He stood, armed and ready, impatiently waiting Elle and Sawyer's arrival.

"What took you two so long?" he croaked.

"We were supposed to leave at sunrise."

"Give them a break, Michael," Kate stepped in, "they're here aren't they?"

"Right, sorry," he feigned a sorrowful expression, "you're right, Kate."

Elle and Jack shared a knowing look, stealing a glance over Michael's shoulder. Just barely nodding to Elle, he turned his attention onto Sawyer who was trying to hand Hurley a gun.

"No way, dude," Hurley stepped back in protest, "I ain't killing anybody."

"Ain't that the point?" Sawyer sneered.

"I thought _the point_ was to get Walt back?" Hurley stood his ground.

"We are." Elle stepped in between Hurley and Sawyer, "let him be James."

"Alright, then…," he followed Elle's lead, "enough jibber-jabberin', let's get on with it."

Sawyer and Elle headed off, the rest in tow. Elle passed Claire on the way and she stopped for a moment. She watched as the rest of the crew headed on and she looked back at Claire. Telling her she wanted to take one last look at them before she left, made the hairs on Claire's neck stand at end.

"Elle, that's crazy talk."

"We'll see you again, soon. You just be careful."

Claire, lifting Aaron out of his cradle, took his little hand and waved it at Elle. Telling her to come and give them a hug, Elle did so. As she tickled the bottom of Aaron's foot, she looked at Claire and gave in to her secret.

"G'day Auntie Elle," Claire mimicked a little child's voice.

"Claire…," Elle began, the words finding their way slowly, but surely. Claire was concerned, the last time Elle looked at her like that, she was upset over Sawyer getting on the raft.

"Promise me, you can keep a secret."

Claire nodded, of course, she could, she told Elle.

"I'm going to have a baby." The words came out so easily to Claire, a weight lifted from Elle's shoulders. Claire's reaction made her warm all over. Wrapping her arms around Elle as best as she could, Aaron was caught in the middle of their embrace, cooing and giggling.

"Oh, Elle," Claire whispered, "promise me you'll take care of yourself and that little gift you are carrying."

"I promise." With that, Elle jogged over to rejoin the group, but before she met up with Sawyer, she tapped Jack on the shoulder and thanked him.

"For what?"

"If it weren't for you," she whispered, "Sawyer would have died and this," she placed a hand on her stomach, "this wouldn't have happened."

Jack didn't know what to say. The wave of jealousy he usually felt when Elle mentioned Sawyer's name failed to wash over his body. He was at peace with Elle's decision; however, he was afraid for her. Telling her she should have told Sawyer before they left, Elle told him he was right.

"First thing when we get back, Jack," she smiled, "I promise."

Sawyer's head was turned and he saw the two of them talking. Whispering is more like it, he thought to himself. Reaching for her hand, he pulled her in close to him, taking in the warm smile on her face. That bad feelin' he had been worried about, disappeared when he looked into her eyes. They were warmer, lighter, just like…

"Brownie Bits," he mumbled.

"What did ya say?"

"Never you mind, darlin'," he placed a kiss atop her head, "let's get that kid back."

Chapter 23

They walked through the jungle for what seemed like miles, the heat from the sun, singed their skin. The sun was slowly sinking into the horizon evident that dusk was approaching. The jungle made everyone nervous, you could tell by the looks on their faces. Kate was slowly making her way, cranking her neck every now and then, looking over her shoulder towards Elle and Jack who were lagging behind. Rustling in the trees startled them, as they all looked upward, anxiously awaiting an ambush. A large, tropical bird swooped overhead, calling out its arrival with a loud and shrieky wail. Michael, aiming his gun towards the unknown creature, fired away, the clicking of the clip, rattled as each absent round fired off. Taking one look at his gun and up at the others, Michael looked at them suspiciously. Elle was crouched on the ground, her gun, resting on her knee. Looking up at Jack, she watched his interaction with Michael. Jack was prepared; she had to give him that credit. Why arm a potential traitor?

"Sorry man," Jack reached for the gun, "must have forgotten to load it."

"Don't sweat it."

Elle watched as Hurley stood there, staring off into the direction that the bird flew. To no one in particular, he asked an alarmingly funny question.

"Dude, did that bird just say my name?"

Off color as Sawyer was, his response left something to be desired. Sarcasm coated his words as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," he smirked, "right after it crapped gold."

Jack motioned to everyone and suggested that they keep on moving. They were walking a beaten trail, loaded with rugged boulders, fallen lumber, and a tiny stream crawling amongst the moss-embedded rocks. They were walking in pairs; Hurley and Michael were at the lead, Jack and Elle following in a close second, with Kate and Sawyer pulling up the rear. Elle and Jack were engrossed in a deep conversation about Michael when the sound of a twig breaking under foot, echoed off in the distance. She motioned to Jack to keep an eye on Michael, while she fell into step with Sawyer and Kate. Rounding their side, she told them to keep moving. The hairs on Kate's arms rose and she silently chuckled to herself. She knew they were being followed and Elle just confirmed it. Elle whispered to Sawyer.

"If you remember what I said earlier," winking at him, "take my lead."

"We're being followed."

"What?" Sawyer was eager for a fight. "Where they at?"

"Keep quiet," Kate whispered, "for once."

"Stand there and look interested," she told Sawyer, "because in about three seconds we're going to turn the tables on our guests."

Elle loved her enthusiasm. She told them that two men were following them, on their sixes, at about nine o'clock and eleven o'clock.

"Over that ridge," she whispered.

"On the count of three," she looked to Elle for cover.

"One…"

"Two…" Kate stooped down to _tie her shoe_.

"Three."

The three of them, executed a surprise attack, shooting off into the ridge, bullets ricocheting off trees and rock. Sawyer's shot befell one of the men, his body falling down the hill. The other man ran off into the jungle. Jack, Hurley and Michael, ran back towards the sounds of gunshots, finding them hovering over the body of a man in tattered clothing.

"He's dead." Jack confirmed.

"We have to find the other one," Sawyer was breathless, "he'll warn the others we're on our way."

Elle stood up, her hands rested on her hips. Jack stood up as well and as he shook off Sawyer's suggestion, his words were disquieting, his demeanor, was defensive. Looking towards Michael, Jack seemed to burn through him with his words.

"They've already been warned."

"Dude, what do you mean, _already been_?" Hurley seemed guarded.

"_Tell them Michael_!" Jack ordered.

"Hey, man," Michael threw his hands up in protest, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Elle made her way over to Michael, squared her footing, and asked him to lie to them again. Sawyer and Kate had no idea what was going on, they looked on as Elle and Jack faced Michael, apprehensive and on the verge of mutiny. Mesmerized by their posture, Sawyer looked from Elle to Jack and felt like an outsider, waiting to be invited to the party.

"I said," Elle's voice was hard, it failed to waver, "lie to us again." She shoved Michael, her palms lay flat on his chest, striking him back, causing him to stumble. Brushing himself off, he raised his head and his eyes were full of malice. Elle didn't avert her eyes. Once you looked into the face of the Devil, staring into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer was a piece of cake.

"What the hell's going on," Sawyer asked, "Doc?" he looked to Elle, "somebody clue us in."

"Tell them Michael," Jack repeated as he shoved Michael hard up against a tree, "tell them what you did!" Elle held her gun towards Michael.

"Jack," Kate reprimanded him.

"I…I'm sorry…," Michael stammered.

"Come again, Hoss." Sawyer was dumbfounded. He stared at Michael, hoping he hadn't admitted to it, hoping it was just his imagination. The bastard, he thought to himself.

"I had to…they…a list…I'd get my son back…" Michael wasn't making any sense.

"What list?" Kate asked.

"_They_ gave me a list, with your names on it, said if I brought you all back to _Them_, I'd get Walt back."

Letting up on Michael, Jack took a step back, throwing his hands to his knees, it seemed like the air was sucker punched out from him.

The others stood there, surprised, angered, confused. Hurley was standing behind Michael, staring at him, as if he had never seen him before. Kate broke the silence.

"You let Henry go?"

Nodding a pitiful yes, Hurley opened his mouth to speak.

"Did you kill them…Ana-Lucia," Hurley swallowed hard, "…and Libby?"

Pathetically, Michael told him he had no other choice. Libby was an accident, but he couldn't find another way. They already set the plan in motion when he ran after Walt the second time, a list procured, the names, Kate Austen, James Ford, Hugo Reyes, Jack Sheppard, and Elizabeth Grecco, scribbled in pencil. Hurley began to walk off, alerting the others that he was leaving.

"You can't go," Elle insisted, "if we don't all show up, they'll kill us, regardless."

Hurley turned to face her with disgust in his eyes. He couldn't begin to talk to her, his mind was racing. Instead, he turned towards Jack and berated him for dragging them into a trap.

"I hate to say it," Sawyer finally spoke up, "but the big guy's right." Turning to Elle, he looked her straight in the face and sighed.

"You knew too?"

"This whole time," he laughed, "you were keeping this a secret from me."

"_With the Doc_?" Sawyer was flustered.

"I'll be damned."

"Here I thought, you couldn't con a con…" he gave her a sly smile.

"This isn't the time,"she told him, "or the place."

"We have to keep moving…," she walked over to Hurley and placed a consoling hand on his arm, "all of us."

"We wouldn't have brought you all out here, if there wasn't a plan."

Quickly averting his anger, amusement filled Sawyer's eyes.

"What kinda plan?"

Chapter 24

Jack and Elle filled the rest of them in on Sayid's plan. Sayid was going to set a signal fire that will send out thick black smoke, into the air, reminiscent of the warning the _Others_ gave, only this time, _They_ will know that it represented the survivors pending arrival. They should be close enough to the shoreline, so that they could make a quick and clean exit, after infiltrating the _Others' _camp, with a traitor in tow. Michael was petrified, he knew his plan had been foiled, his face ashen with guilt. No matter how many times he tried to apologize, the daggers in the others' eyes seemed to slice through his flesh, leaving their permanent markings on his heart. He walked on quietly, sticking to the rest of his plan. _As long as they think they have me within their grasp, I will still have control_. I will get my son back; he repeated a mantra in his head.

They made their way up and over a steep hill, reaching flat, and solid ground, miles of land stretched out ahead of them. They were scattered, each cautiously side stepping Michael, keeping plenty of distance between him and them. Looking down the valley, Kate brought everyone's attention to a mound of objects, piled a couple of feet into the air.

"What is all of this?" she asked, scooping up a canister. Unlocking its airtight seal, a notebook fell out.

"Some kind of studies," Elle offered, "every page of this damn thing is filled with _Subject 1, washed dishes, Subject 2, ate an apple…" _Elle continued to read similar pages aloud.

Looking towards Kate, she held up the notebook.

"I told you they were watching us," she slammed the notebook to the ground, "we're just rats in a cage to them."

"Hey, Doc," Sawyer called out, "what did ya say Sayid's signal was going to be?"

Pointing a finger over the trees, Sawyer alerted them to the black smoke, rising miles out of their reach. Jack quickly turned on his heels and faced Michael.

"Where were you taking us?" he yelled, his voice echoed throughout the valley.

"To the beach, man," Michael responded.

"We're nowhere near the beach Michael," Jack began to charge towards Michael.

The last words they heard before they were each shot with an electrifying dart, were shallow, pitiful, and by all means, too late.

"_I'm sorry."_

Elle watched in horror as Sawyer was shot in the neck with some foreign object, sending currents through his body, his body writhing in the dirt. She ran to his body, pulling a dart out of his neck. Terrified, Elle attempted to drag him to some brushes, but he was too heavy. She watched as Kate too was shot, her neck arched back. Jack ran to her rescue, throwing her wilted body over his shoulder. Elle shuddered as she watched Jack get hit with a dart, his limp body falling to its knees. Kate's body rolled onto the dampened grass. Elle ran for the nearest shelter, but a man and young woman, her face familiar, grabbed Elle by the shoulders. Screaming and fighting against their strong grasps, she was able to elbow the man in the jaw, loosening his grip. She pushed past the young woman, who hardly fought to keep her from leaving, and ran back towards her friends. They were being gagged and their hands were being tied behind their backs. Slowly coming around, their gaze fixed on Elle. Their eyes were full of fear and shock, watching helplessly as Elle too was being tied. A gag wasn't put into her mouth, nor was she shot with a dart. This was apparent to Sawyer and the others, and they looked at her, confusion resting upon their haggard faces. Turning to face the man who she knocked in the jaw, she questioned their motives.

"Why are you doing this?" she spat maliciously.

"Why them?" Elle tilted her head towards her friends.

"Why not me?"

The man, Pickett, looked at her and snorted.

"We couldn't risk it with a woman in your delicate condition."

A bound and gagged Sawyer looked from the man back to Elle, his eyes full of concern. He attempted to talk, but his words were incoherent. Pushing the rag out with his tongue, he spat at the man.

"What kinda condition is that, Hoss?"

The man kneed Sawyer in the gut. He told Sawyer he wasn't in any position to be asking questions. A look of amusement on his face lit up his dark eyes and he chuckled to himself.

"Looks like you've got your work cut out for ya, James."

Sawyer looked at the man, sweat poured down his face. He turned to face Elle, who was standing there, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Questioning her with his eyes, he saw her bite her lip, and knew something was wrong.

"Damn it, Elle, what's he talkin' about?"

Elle, looked down to the ground and back up at Sawyer. She winked and before he knew it, she had elbowed Pickett in the abdomen and used her palm to shove back his nose. Incapacitated, he fell to the ground, covering his nose with his hand. Mumbling towards the young girl to take hold of Elle, she made her move. The young girl, however, didn't get too far, when Elle turned towards her and stared her down. Shaking her head at the girl, she put up her hands in protest.

"Please," she pleaded, "I don't want to have to hurt you too."

"And _I will_," she hardened her gaze, "_trust me_."

The young girl backed down and allowed Elle to approach Sawyer. She tried to wipe his hair out of his face, but found it difficult to be gentle. She took his face into her hands and smiled a small, sad, smile.

"I was going to tell you when we got back…"

"Tell me what?" he whispered, "Elle, _damn it_…you're scaring me."

"I'm scaring you?" she shook her head and placed her hands to her stomach.

"I'm scaring myself, James."

"Quit stallin' Elle." He gave her an encouraging smile and nodded for her to go on.

Right before she was smacked in the back of the head with the butt of Pickett's gun, she told Sawyer the truth. Her words lingered in the air after her breath was knocked out of her, her body twisted and fell over, planting into the ground at Sawyer's feet.

"_I'm pregnant_."

Chapter 25

Pickett gagged Elle after she came to and he dragged her to her feet. Shoving her in line with the others, she fell into Sawyer's back. Sawyer turned to face her and by the look of apprehension in his eyes, she was grateful for his concern, but rendered the silence priceless. She nodded that she was okay and with a great heave of her chest, let out a sigh. He looked down at her, his eyes following her upper body, settling on her stomach. He stared for a few moments then brought his eyes back up to face Elle. He raised his eyebrows, twice, and Elle could have sworn she saw a smile behind the gag. _He's okay with this_, she thought to herself. We're _going to get through this_, she urged herself. They began to walk off, Jack leading the line, Michael, the only one free to do what he pleased. _Son of a bitch_, she thought to herself, _what a traitor_.

They were led down a rickety wooden pier; in the ocean to their left, a small motor boat could be heard, heading towards the dock. The _Others_ threw them to their knees, as the wooden planks splintered their knees. Removing the hemp bags from their heads, Elle, and her friends could be heard moaning out of discomfort and disorientation. They adjusted their eyes to the bright sunlight reflecting off the water. Elle was on the outside, closest to the edge of the pier. To her left squatted Hurley. Jack was kneeling close to him, followed by a shaken Kate, with Sawyer farthest from Elle. It took a few moments to gather their bearings, but who faced them aroused hatred in Jack's eyes, as Ben, formally known as Henry, stepped off the boat, and headed towards the hostages. He gave Jack a knowing nod of his small, square head, his demonic eyes glinted in the light.

"Son of a bitch!" Sawyer managed to mumble from beneath his gagged lips. Pickett kneed Sawyer in the gut for the second time, enjoying every moment.

"That's enough," a burly man with a beard warned Pickett.

"You're beard's a fake…" shouted Kate, her words were garbled from her gag as well.

"What's that, Kate?" he smiled, his demeanor was warmer than the others.

"She said your beard's a fake," Elle echoed. She was never gagged. Pickett warned her that if she screamed once, she'd regret it. Fearing for the lives of her friends and her own, she never uttered a word as they trudged to that pier.

"They're a smart crew, Tom." A bronzed woman, with charcoal eyes, chuckled.

Ripping off the beard, Tom thanked the two women for relieving him of the itchy material and brought their attention to his accomplice's name: Bea. They watched as Ben walked towards Michael and began talking to him as if they were old acquaintances. Elle turned her head and looked down the line of her friends. Hurley's eyes were large and frightened; he looked like a little lost boy amongst all the adults. Jack was staring off at Ben and Michael, fury burned through his soul, like a fire out of control. Kate looked the most terrified, her hands writhing at the cloth tied tightly around her wrists. Poor Kate, Elle sympathized with her. She's been running all her life, only to get captured on an island where she thought she was finally safe. Kate glanced at her, her Lastly, Elle's eyes locked with Sawyer's. They gazed into one another's eyes for a few seconds as Elle mouthed to him that she _was okay_. His eyes reflected relief as he slowly nodded his head, but quickly averted his eyes, as the ground began to shake. A loud, earsplitting noise shot through the air as the sky was illuminated a shade of purple. They ducked their heads into their chests, unable to block out the noise. They were lucky enough to shield their eyes from the surreal lightshow. As quickly as the ground shook and the sky turned purple, it ended. The _Others_ looked harrowed, exchanging secretive glances while Elle and the others looked on, helplessly. They watched in awe and annoyance as Michael shouted Walt's name. _He was alive, _Elle thought to herself. For a nanosecond, she was happy for Michael, and then came to her senses as she remembered who was tied up and who was being set free.

"Michael!" Elle shouted. "You _bastard_, don't leave us here!"

Her words were silenced as Bea walked over to her and gagged her with a similar cloth that they used on her friends. She tried to fight her off, but the woman was oddly strong for her age and build, clutching Elle's hands in her own grasp, squeezing them. Elle flinched. Hurley looked on, his brow furrowed, unable to assist. Michael, boarded the motorized boat, and not once did he look back at them. He left them at the will and mercy of complete strangers who had terrorized them from the moment they landed on that island, almost 48 days ago. Bea untied Hurley's hands and told him to stand. The poor, flustered man, looked to her and back at his friends.

"Go, Hugo," she urged him, "go back, and tell your friends not to come looking for us."

"My friends," he frowned, "what about them?"

Ben, his voice was gentle, his large eyes, were harsh.

"Why, Hugo," his smile enlarged, taking over most of his gremlin like face, "they are coming home with us."

Hurley looked at his friends, not knowing what to do. They nodded supportively, watching as Hurley ambled down the pier towards their home. _Conceding_ to their captives, one similar and poignant notion swam throughout the minds of Elle, Sawyer, Kate, and Jack as they took one last look at one another before bags were placed over their heads.

"_Live together, die alone_."

The End


End file.
